


Up In The Air

by Selene98



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aerial Acrobatics AU, Aerial silks, Aerialist Lance (Voltron), F/M, I wouldn't call this NSFW but don't google male aerial acrobatics outfits at work, Lance wearing sexy aerial outfits, M/M, alcohol consumption, grad school, gratuitous descriptions of aerial tricks, static trapeze
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selene98/pseuds/Selene98
Summary: With one year left on her doctorate, Pidge needs to focus on finishing the last chapter of her thesis, staying sane, and looking for a career in applied Artificial Intelligence. What she doesn’t need are new friends, a new hobby, or to fall in love with her aerial acrobatics instructor. Pidge will have to learn to balance the tension between her heart and head or everything she’s worked for might be up in the air.OR: The Plance aerial acrobatics AU we’ve all been waiting for.





	1. The Climb

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been stirring in my head for over a year now, and the Mini Bang was the prefect excuse to get off my butt and write the darn thing. Some of this is based on my own experience with aerial acrobatics classes. If you love this and want to pick up the hobby yourself, please find an instructor who can teach you in a safe environment. 
> 
> A million thanks to the mods for putting this together, as well as my Beta [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) and my artist [SueMaryRakocy](https://suemaryrakocy.tumblr.com/,) who have dealt with my extreme penchant for procrastinating with grace and kindness. 
> 
> I'm posting the first three chapters today, so be on the lookout for more updates tomorrow and this weekend.

Pidge is halfway through the same paragraph she’s been reading for the last twenty minutes when Matt drops the bag on the table. More specifically, he drops her gym bag on the book she’s still trying to read.

She looks up at Matt from the book and scowls. The worst part about living with her brother is that Matt knows where she lives. 

“You and I both know I don’t believe in exercise,” Pidge says, pushing the long unused bag off her book and then the table as well. “I have to finish this reading tonight so I can write a coherent response to it tomorrow. Whatever you have planned, it’s not happening.” 

“But what if, instead of studying—” Matt counters— “you were flying.” He picks her bag up off the floor and shakes it in front of her face.

“If you think this is helping your argument,” Pidge says, pushing his hand and the bag down, “you are sorely mistaken.”

“Oh come on, Pidge,” Matt whines. Of course he does. She’s the little sister. She should be whining. But it’s always Matt with the puppy dog eyes and desperate need to leave the house. “It’ll be fun. Plus, Shiro—” As soon as she hears Shiro’s name, it all clicks. She grabs the bag from Matt’s outstretched hands. 

“Oh, Shiro suggested it?” she feigns innocently. “Then whatever it is must be great. Let me change into these.” She pushes past Matt into her room but calls over her shoulder before shutting the door. “I’ll do this so you can gush to Shiro, but you owe me big time.”

~~

Matt ends up driving her to a creepy parking lot behind a car wash, and for a moment Pidge wonders if her brother has finally cracked. 

“I know we’ve had our differences, Matt...” she begins cautiously (can’t be too careful when your brother finally turns into a serial killer). “But you would at least murder me in a field or something, right?” She gestures to the gravel parking lot that has a couple of cars in it, but still feels empty. “You wouldn’t kill me in this sad parking lot?”

“Very funny, Pidge,” Matt replies. “We didn’t come to this parking lot. Our final destination is there,” he says, pointing at the building with the car wash. 

“So we’re getting your car washed? I didn’t have to change into workout clothes for that.” 

She can feel Matt’s level of annoyance slowly rising. If he’s going to make her do some type of physical exercise, she’s at least going to pester him while it happens. 

“No, we are not getting my car washed.” He points at the building again, but more forcefully, and Pidge actually takes a look. There’s a secondary door towards the back of the building with a small sign that reads Altea Studios. It’s accompanied by a silhouette of what looks like some type of dancer. 

“Oh no,” Pidge says. “I’m not taking a dance class with you. Or with anyone.” 

“We’ll it’s a good thing it’s not a dance class,” Matt replies. “It’s aerial silks.”

~~

It takes another few minutes of convincing for Matt to get Pidge out of the car. It’s not that she wants to bail on Matt; it’s that the idea of doing anything artsy with her body makes Pidge cringe. She didn’t even take dance classes as a toddler like most of her friends. She’d been too busy learning the basics of coding with a cute little turtle game to be bothered with tutus or tap.

“I’m only doing this because you have a thing for Shiro,” she reasons. Faster than she expects, Matt has his hand over her mouth. 

“Don’t you say a word. He could be in there!” Pidge glares at Matt, waiting for the right moment. He turns to look at the entrance, and she opens her mouth, swiping her tongue on his hand. 

Matt pulls away from her, his face twisted in disgust. “Oh, Pidge, gross.” 

“You owe me so much for this,” she counters. “That’s just your first payment.” 

They make it to the door of Altea Studios, but it’s being pushed open from the inside before Pidge can even reach for it. Several little girls come tumbling out of the building, all wearing similar outfits to Pidge: yoga pants and graphic t-shirts. The group bustles past Matt and Pidge, followed shortly by an exasperated middle aged man, waving goodbye to someone inside the door. As they leave, another figure appears in the doorway. 

This time, Pidge is getting what she came for. 

Shiro has been friends with Matt since high school, and Matt has been harboring a crush on the man for nearly as long. She’s never seen two people both so compatible and so completely oblivious before. According to Matt, Shiro picked up aerial acrobatics after the car accident where he lost his arm. As much as she loves her brother, Pidge is sick and tired of waiting for Matt to build up the nerve to say something. So anything he suggests involving Shiro is an automatic yes, if only because it gives her more opportunity to meddle in her brother’s love life. 

It seems like aerial suits Shiro. He’s built up his physique he had before the accident, and looks happy, if not with a little worry on his face as he shouts at the group of girls leaving the studio. 

“Don’t run across the street without looking,” Shiro shouts after the group, “and listen to Mr. Sanders!” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh when the group of girls all shout back “Yes, Mr. Shiro!” in unison before giggling uncontrollably. 

It takes Shiro a few moments of deep breaths before he notices Pidge and Matt, but when he does, his entire posture changes. Pidge has seen Shiro’s Dad Mode, before, and that’s how he was behaving for the kids, but when he sees the both of them, he relaxes. His gaze flickers from Matt, to Pidge, and back to Matt. 

“Oh wow, Matt!” Shiro looks genuinely surprised at Matt’s presence. Then he adds “and Pidge,” almost as an afterthought. Pidge wants to shake her brother for being so incredibly dumb. Instead, she smiles and waves at Shiro. “What are you two doing here?” 

Pidge would jump in and embarrass Matt, but he’s on his game today.

“Well, you had mentioned how much you’ve enjoyed aerial lately...” Matt trails off for a moment, scratching his cheek in the way that Pidge knows means he’s nervous. “So I talked Pidge into taking a break from all her hard doctoral work and giving it a try with me.” 

Matt grabs Pidge by the shoulders, as if she could act as a shield between him and Shiro. She elbows Matt away and pushes past Shiro into the studio, muttering “So, let’s get a look at this place,” before leaving Matt in the dust with Shiro. If experience is anything to go by, they’ll be fine. Instead, she turns her attention to the studio.

The interior of the studio is...eclectic, to say the least. A table in one corner appears to be a small altar covered with figurines, while some art hangs high on the walls, most of it of lions in various themes. Pidge can honestly say that it’s nothing like she’d expected. 

Everywhere she looks, there are huge columns of fabric hanging from the ceiling. Colors ranging from black to pink to one that looked to be dyed an ombre blue. The large overhead lights are off, leaving most of the lighting to the one window and the colored LED light strips wrapped around the rigging high above.

At the center of the room, a small group of women were gathered around a tall man. Pidge left Matt fumbling through a conversation with Shiro and made her way to the group. Even from a distance, Pidge can make out a sharp chin, dark skin, and well-defined arms. When she nears the group, she hangs back for a moment, content to listen to them chat before interjecting herself.

“I did aerial yoga before starting, but it’s nothing compared to really working with silks,” one especially fit-looking woman says. “Mostly just using the silks to get better backbends.” Several other women all nod in agreement. 

“I’ll have you all upside down and in the air in no time,” the man says. Before any of the other women can respond, he looks over to the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to go get some paperwork from the office, but I’ll be back before we start at seven.” And with that, he pushes out from the group and disappears through a nearby door. 

“Who is that?” Pidge asks one of the women.

“Oh, that’s Lance, he’s the instructor,” the woman offers.

“Mm, thanks,” Pidge replies. Lance seems interesting. Definitely not exactly what she expected for an instructor. But to be fair, she knew nothing about aerial before today. So like this whole experience, Lance is an unknown factor. But Pidge has never been one to let the unknown scare her.

~~

Right on time, Lance returns from the office and makes his way to the center of the group. 

“Alright everyone, my name is Lance and I will be your intro to aerial instructor for the next eight weeks!” As he speaks, Lance motions the group to draw near. With a single fluid motion, he sprawls out on the ground, a small notebook in front of him.

“Let’s go around and introduce ourselves, and let me know why you’re here.” With a flourish, Lance sits up, his posture going from languid to poised before Pidge even realizes he made the transition. “Like I said, I’m Lance. I’ve been doing aerial for just about ten years, and I am here to mold you from beginner baby chicks into slightly more graceful intermediate birds.” He points to his left, where Matt is sitting. “What about you, good sir?”

“Uh, I’m Matt. I’ve never done this before, but my friend Shiro has been saying I should give it a try, so here I am.” At the mention of Shiro’s name, Lance lights up.

“Oh man, Shiro is great. He’s sent you to the right place.” 

“I’m Pidge. And I’m here because my dumb brother didn’t want to come alone.” She gently elbows Matt.

“A good enough reason as any,” Lance replies. “Glad to have you, Pidge.” She knows that it’s just a generic platitude, but she warms at his reply. Lance continues around the circle, and the remaining students all introduce themselves. Once their done, Lance nods.

“So before we get started, a couple of things. If you haven’t signed a waiver yet, I’m going to need you to do that,” Lance waves the stack of papers in his hands. “Also, I want to just briefly mention that aerial is a very dangerous art, and part of my job as your instructor includes spotting you.” Lance pauses for a moment, and looks deliberately at each student in the circle. When he meets Pidge’s eyes, she can feel the intensity of what he’s saying in the bright blue gaze.

“I’ll do my best to ask ahead of time if I think I need to touch anyone to assist with a move or prevent a fall. If someone does start to fall, depending on the situation, I may be able to prevent or mitigate injury by initiating some physical contact and grabbing you or softening the fall. But if at any time, I make you uncomfortable, or any touch feels inappropriate to you, please let me know, and I’ll stop or make appropriate changes. If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, Allura, the owner of the studio, absolutely wants to hear from you.” Lance sweeps his gaze across the group again, and nods. 

“I want you all to learn to love aerial just like I do. But I can’t do that if I make you uncomfortable.” Several of the students nod, and Pidge finds herself impressed. Lance is serious about this, more serious than she’s seen some of her fellow doctoral candidates about their studies. And it’s reassuring that not only is he wanting to keep everyone safe, but he’s also passionate about the subject. 

Pidge’s favorite teachers have always been the ones who cared enough about the subject to want their students to love it as well. The difference between good and great always seems to be passion. 

Lance gives them a few more moments to sit with his little speech before declaring it warmup time, leading them through a long stretching and yoga routine that leaves Pidge sweaty and tired. But once they’re done, everyone finds a silk for themselves, and the real instruction begins.  
~~

As she stands in front of the bright green silks in front of her, Pidge wants to be literally anywhere else. She watched from the side as Lance demonstrated the basics of climbing the silks, but the distance to where the silks are rigged seemed tremendous, and her hands feel clammy with nerves. 

With a deep breath, she grabs the silk in front of her and sticks her foot out the same way Lance had. She twists her foot counterclockwise around the silk, and with a heave, jumps up, scrambling to get her other foot on top. She slips for a moment, and then her feet are on the soft mat beneath the silk.

“Well, that’s not how I imagined this would go,” Pidge mutters, untangling her leg from the silk. She grabs the fabric again, twisting her foot in the same way, and then pauses. To her right, Matt is halfway to the top of his own silk. 

“I don’t know why this is so hard,” she grumbles. 

Nearby, Lance shrugs. “Have you spent the last ten years of your life pulling yourself up silks?” he asks like he knows the answer. Because of course he does 

“No,” Pidge replies. “But the mechanics of it are simple. I’ve seen you do this over and over. Even Matt can do it!” Pidge points to her brother who is nearly at the top of his silk. 

“Matt has terrible form,” Lance counters with ease. Above him, Matt squeaks indignantly. “And I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, so instead of comparing yourself to me, or him, let’s see you give it one more try.”

It’s a challenge. The way his eyebrow quirks up, the tone of his voice part encouraging and part teasing. As if to say “Prove me wrong, Pidge. Show me what you’re made of.”

Pidge grabs the silk again, and wraps her leg around it. Her hands are even more sweaty with Lance watching her, but she holds tight and pulls herself up, half pulling and half jumping into the air. She slams her free foot on top of the silks, and she’s in the air. 

Not too far off the ground, but it’s a better start than she’s had all night. She sticks her tongue out at Lance, then adjusts her grip higher on the silks, and moves her feet. 

This is the hard part. Pidge knew she wasn’t the strongest, but now she’s facing the realization that even lifting her legs from hanging is a bigger effort than she could have imagined. But Lance is watching, and so is Matt, from where he seems to be trapped at the top of his silk, eyeing his descent worriedly. 

Pidge flails a bit as she wraps her foot again; in the process of lifting her legs, she’d lost the wrap around her leg. But she manages to redo the wrap, and then smash her free foot down again. It’s a huge relief, and she stands up, now just less than halfway up her silk. 

And she’s exhausted. The moments of free hanging have her arms shaking and her abs burning. But below her, Lance is smiling. 

It’s a different kind of smile. A little self satisfied, but he looks more proud than smug. 

“Great job and all, Pidge,” Matt says “but can someone please explain how I’m supposed to get down without becoming a pancake?”

~~

Once everyone has fumbled through climbing, Lance moves on to teaching their first real tricks. Pidge watches as he demonstrates the basics of a foot lock. It’s just a way to wrap the silk around the foot in a way that prevents the silk from moving, and Pidge is impressed at how something so simple is so effective. 

Lance starts them from the ground, repeatedly wrapping and unwrapping the silk. He walks past everyone in the class and offers individual tips. Pidge and Matt are the last two he checks on. They both successfully create the foot lock, Lance nodding in approval.

“Alright, so it looks like you all got your foot lock, so I’m going to walk through three simple tricks that I want you all to try.” Lane effortlessly wraps his foot in a foot lock, going slow to demonstrate the process. 

“Once you’ve got your foot lock on, separate the silks, and step up. You’ll want to keep your leg with the foot lock straight, to act as a base. Then, our first trick is called banana. Put your free foot in the silks on top of your locked foot, and then lean forward while holding both silks.” Lance moves as he gives instructions, and at the end, he’s leaning out, his hips pushed forward, the line of his body a curve that you might be able to compare to a banana. He pulls himself back to the silks and removes his free foot from on top of his locked foot.

“The second trick is called banana split, and it’s exactly the same, but you put your free leg out and point it forwards.” He demonstrates again, pushing his body forward, this time including his left leg. “This one will probably feel a little more scary, but it’s the same principle.” Lance pulls himself back a third time and puts his free foot on his locked foot again.

“Finally, we’ve got waterfall. This one is pretty easy, but it looks nice and artistic. Just make sure your feet are together in the silks, and lower yourself to be squatting in the silks.” Lance moves so slow as he demonstrates, his hands never leaving the silks, but moving like liquid. His knees jut out in front of him, but he does look like he’s just squatting until he leans back. “The last bit is where it counts. It’s just leaning back from the squat, but you can really make it your own with how you move to get here.” 

As with everything else so far, trying the moves for herself is harder than Pidge first imagines. She suspects part of the difficulty is that they spent the first thirty minutes of class warming up, and Pidge hasn’t done consistent exercise in quite a while. But even after stepping up into her foot lock, Pidge feels tired. What she also doesn’t expect is for the foot lock to hurt.

It feels like her foot is being crushed, and for a moment, she wonders if she should ask Lance about the pain. But Matt beats her to the punch. 

“Is it supposed to hurt so much,” her brother asks. Several of the other students look a little relieved when he mentions his discomfort. 

“Ahh, sorry about that,” Lance says, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “I always forget that most people find foot locks uncomfortable at first. The pain will go away in time. Once you kill your nerve endings.” Pidge shares a worried look with Matt, and wonders not for the first time tonight if this might be the hobby of masochists. Shiro included. Lance casually waves off the looks of concern that seem to sweep the room. 

“After a few weeks,”Lance offers, “you won’t even remember what the pain feels like. Either that, or aerials might not be the hobby for you.” He shrugs, and Pidge is certain. Masochists, all of them.

~~

Later, in the car, Pidge can feel her whole body ache, but she can’t deny that the class was fun.

“So, out of ten, how did you like it?” Matt asks. She considers for a moment. 

“Ten out of ten for getting to see you fumble while talking with Shiro, seven out of ten for the class,” Pidge says. She hasn’t forgotten her main reason for showing up, and it’s to try and make her brother use actual words and tell Shiro how much he likes him. 

“I thought it was more of an eight, but I also didn’t spend the whole class making eyes at the teacher,” Matt counters, skirting around her Shiro comment completely.

“I do not make eyes, Matt,” Pidge shoots back. “If anything, I spent most of class glaring at the dumb silks.” 

“I dunno,” Matt says. “Lance is pretty cute, and the two of you seemed to hit it off pretty well.” 

“I’ve never met a teacher who doesn’t love me,” Pidge replies. “I’m a good student. That’s all.” 

Matt shrugs, and starts the car. “So you’re not disagreeing with the cute assessment.”

Pidge is glad they’re in the car where no one can hear her half-groan, half-screech as she gently punches her brother’s shoulder in retaliation. 

Matt is right, though. Lance is cute. Maybe Pidge likes the way they clicked so quickly. And maybe Pidge did use watching him demonstrate moves as an excuse to stare at his very toned arms and nice face. But that doesn’t have to mean anything.

She’s too busy to _let _it mean anything.__


	2. The Substitute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge wants Lance to look at her forever. Lance gets sick. Keith has weird socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, big thanks to my beta [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) and my artist [SueMaryRakocy](https://suemaryrakocy.tumblr.com/,). [ Take a look at this art!](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2a0eca9d34d508e2fc80cdf835f43c35/tumblr_pv7x3vdNcc1xmn129o1_540.jpg/)
> 
> Don't try these moves at home, kids! Only with a trained professional.

By the second week of class, Pidge can finally lift her arms again without any pain. But fate is cruel and so is her brother, so she’s back at Altea Studios a week later, staring at the silks in front of her and silently trying to decide how best to murder Matt in his sleep. After the long yoga warm-up routine, during which she contemplates the benefits of smothering over standard strangulation, Lance has them climbing again. Pidge can get about halfway up the silks before her arms and legs give out and she has to slide down in shame. Before she can give the climb another try, Lance calls for everyone’s attention.

“Okay. You’ve all been doing pretty well with what we call our standard climb,” he says, moving to the free silk he typically uses to demonstrate for the class. “I think it’s time to teach you all what we in the business typically call the Russian Climb.” 

Lance goes through the moves and explains them as he goes. Pidge watches intently, and wonders how she’ll be able to master this climb when she can’t even get all the way up the silks. But Lance demonstrates the climb with the same practiced ease as everything else. He bends his right leg, making it somewhat parallel to the ground, with the top of his foot against the silks. Then Lance takes his left foot off the ground, scooping up the hanging silk beneath his right foot, and steps on top of his right foot.

He climbs all the way to the top of his silk using the Russian Climb. He pauses at the top, though. “When you get to the top, there’s one thing you need to remember.” Lance removes his legs from the simple wrap, and kicks them out lazily. Not for the first time, Pidge is amazed at the amount of upper body strength their instructor has. Lance gestures widely with his feet as he talks.

“You can’t downclimb from a Russian Climb,” Lance says sternly. “You will do something dumb, and you will fall. So you have to wrap your leg like in a standard climb in order to descend.” Lance wraps his leg, and slowly descends down the silk. When he hits the ground, he takes another look at everyone in the class. “I am speaking from very horrible experience when I say, you cannot and should not try to descend without changing to a standard climb wrap.” 

A small shiver runs down Pidge’s back. It’s a little scary, the possibility that falling from the top of the silks is possible. The waivers they’d had to sign before the first class now make sense. 

But she approaches her silks anyway. She’s still bristling about how Matt could climb all the way to the top on the first day when she could barely get halfway. She’s got her same dark green silks again today, and she’s going to get all the way up the silk if it’s all she manages to do.

Pidge starts with the standard climb. It’s more familiar, and seems less scary than the variation Lance just showed them. She manages to get a step up, and takes a deep breath. Her second step isn’t so great.

When she tries to lift her leg, the silk keeps moving off her foot, and she has to hang in the air longer than her arms can handle. She fumbles the wrap, and drops back to the mat. It’s not a far fall, just a couple of feet and she manages to land standing up, but it’s loud. Lance makes his way over, and Pidge wants to hide behind the silks. 

“You doing okay over here?” Lance asks. Pidge answers with a shrug. 

“Nothing’s hurt,” she offers. Lance nods. 

“It looks like you’re having trouble staying up when it’s just your arms,” Lance says. “When you don’t have a lot of upper body strength, it can help to hang with straight arms instead of bent arms. It’s not good form, but while you’re working on building strength, it can be a modification to help you improve.” Lance moves forward and motions towards her silk. “Do you mind?”

Pidge nods and steps away. Lance takes the silk in hand, and demonstrates. “You’re trying to hang with bent arms,” he says, lifting his feet off the ground so he has to hang in the air with his elbows at right angles. “Try this instead.” Lance returns to the ground to grab the silks higher this time, with his arms straight. Then, when he lifts his feet, he looks like he’s using less effort. 

It makes sense, and Pidge is a little mad she didn’t realize it for herself. But she takes the silk when Lance moves away, frowning at the silk. Lance lets out a little laugh.

“The silks aren’t your enemy, Pidge,” he says. “Work with them. And try the Russian Climb.” 

Pidge rolls her eyes, but decides it’s now or never. She takes a deep breath, and she’s sure the frown on her face eases from irritation to determination. 

Wrapping the silk for a Russian Climb feels like it’s not enough, but Pidge extends her arms fully, grabs the silk, and braces herself for the first move. As soon as her left foot leaves the air, she’s clumsily scooping the silk hanging beneath her foot up and on top of her right foot. The motion feels strange at first, but when she’s standing, it’s not too bad. 

“One more, with your hands higher” Lance says. Pidge takes a deep breath and moves her hands up the silk. Her arms are still straight, and when she takes her left foot off, it’s easier to move her right foot up. And even easier still to do the little scoop that pulls the silk in place. The second step puts her almost halfway, and Pidge grins. 

“Oh, is this what climbing is supposed to feel like?” she asks. She still feels tired, breathless from moving her body and lifting herself, but there’s something more. She’s above Lance now, and he’s got a stupid grin on his face. Pidge tears her eyes away to look at her feet. Maybe the Russian Climb isn’t too bad. 

The rest of the way up the silk it just a matter of repetition. By her fourth step, Pidge knows that her form may not be perfect, but she’s going to make it to the top. It’s not long before she’s reaching up for her next step, only to realize that her hands are nearly at the gear connecting the silk to the rigging above. 

From the floor below, Lance and Matt let out a cheer. Pidge looks around. Several of the other students are up their silks as well, but none are at the top. Her whole body feels shaky, and it’s only now that she realizes she has to come down from this height. Another few deep breaths, and she’s gripping the silks like her life depends on it. 

Transitioning to the standard climb wrap is terrifying. While she’s just hanging in the air, her grip the only thing keeping her up, Pidge has a serious moment of panic. But her arms ache, and her grip still isn’t very strong, so she pushes aside the fear and does the wrap. It’s not clean or pretty like when Lance did his demonstration. But it gets the job done, and she’s got her feet together supporting herself before she realizes it.

Sliding down is slow. She pauses a few times, worried about her speed, but she makes it to the crashmat in on piece, and promptly falls down on her butt, then lays out, her arms outstretched to her sides. 

“I’m done with climbing for today,” Pidge declares. Matt laughs from where he’s going up his own silk, while Lance shrugs. 

“You know your own body,” he offers. “But if you feel like giving it another try after a break, you might want to try climbing with your opposite side.”

~~

Pidge does try to climb with her left side. She promptly falls when trying to complete her first Russian Wrap and decides it’s not for her. She gets a drink of water and takes a moment to breathe. She hadn’t expected the Russian Climb to be so simple, but now that she knows how it works it feels like she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. She looks up and down her silk and nods. She might end up enjoying this after all.

After climbing Lance moves on to sling work. He teaches them how to tie a simple knot in the silks, and then they’re all hanging upside down, legs in a v-shape, which Lance calls a Straddle. The first few tricks are relatively simple.

They learn the Gazelle, which is just a way to hang from the sling with legs bent, that looks rather elegant for the simplicity of it. Lance also teaches them how to get into and out of what he calls a “Seat.” 

After getting upside-down in the sling, they wrap their legs once around each silk, and then it’s a matter of pulling themselves up, letting the silk move farther back on the legs, and ending in a seated position with the silks wrapped around their thighs to keep them stable. Pidge gets halfway up when her grip starts to weaken. Her body is horizontal, but she just wants to let go. 

“Keep going,” Lance encourages from beside her. 

“I’m trying,” Pidge bites out. She moves her hands up the silks a little more, but she can feel herself slipping. 

Do you need help?” Lance asks. Pidge frowns. She doesn’t want to look weak. She may not be as physically strong, but that doesn’t mean she wants anyone else to know that. With a grunt, she moves her hands farther up the silk and pulls herself up the remaining distance. 

Actually being in the position hurts. Her whole body weight is pulling herself down, so the silks around her thighs compress her legs. But Pidge throws a self-satisfied smile over to Lance and grins. 

“No thanks,” she says. “I’ve got this.” Lance gives her a look, halfway between proud and exasperated. It’s a look she’s familiar with. Teachers have been giving her that look since she first blew up a science project in the third grade. Pidge has always enjoyed being on the receiving end of her teacher’s praise, even if it only came in longsuffering looks.

But on Lance, the way he looks at her fires off a different part of her brain. A part that makes her stomach flip and makes her hands clammy. And she can’t help but want him to look at her like that again.

~~

Pidge hates networking events. They’re essential for getting a head-start on a career, but parading herself around to other professors and professionals alike makes her squirm. 

They always give plus ones, and Matt knows half the staff at the university anyway, so she brings him along. He can smooth the gears of a conversation before it grinds to a halt. 

Right now, he’s got his arm on her shoulder, schmoozing with one of his former professors, dropping small tidbits about Pidge’s thesis so the professor turns to her. It’s her chance to shine, even if she hates it. 

“I’m focusing on applied Artificial Intelligence. I think if we can train an AI to understand climate and weather patterns, we could potentially use those predictions to start fighting climate change. Of course, my big first step is programming an AI to help farmers get the best crop yield. I’m hoping to have a beta-tested version done before I finish my thesis, so it’s not all just theoretical.”

She skips the jargon and goes right to the point: save the planet, feed starving people. It’s an altruistic dream, but she really does think it will work. The theory is all there. The code.... not so much.

When someone comes and gets Dr Sonso’s attention, Matt begs off to the bathroom and Pidge is left alone. The weight of her name tag (”Katie Holt, Doctoral candidate”) feels especially heavy as she eyes the crowded room. She has to find someone to talk with while Matt is gone, just to prove she can. 

Near the food table, she notices someone she’s met before. Hunk is a friendly face. They started the same semester, and while he isn’t on the accelerated track, they’ve shared a quiet room in the library before. She walks over and greets him 

“So are these a nightmare for you too, or is it just me?”

Hunk nods sagely. “Oh, I spend weeks dreading coming to these. I have to bring a friend or the anxiety might kill me” 

Just as Hunk begins to explain his work with plastic, Pidge hears one of the last voices she could have expected. 

“Hunk, you’ll never believe it. They have mini pies!” Coming up beside Hunk is Lance, a plate filled with tiny half-dollar sized desserts. 

Hunk turns to face Lance, and his eyes go wide. “Please tell me you have eight tiny pies on your plate because four of them are for me?” he asks, his voice filled with a mixture of delight and apprehension. 

“Of course, buddy!” Lance replies, throwing an arm over Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk looks all at once relieved and thrilled about the pies. He grabs one off the proffered plate, and then turns to Pidge. 

“This is my friend, Lance,” Hunk offers as an introduction. Pidge still isn’t sure what to do with the realization that two disparate parts of her life have this strange connection, but she’s had stranger things happen.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Pidge replies. Then she quickly swipes one of the mini pies from Lance’s plate and shoves it in her mouth to avoid speaking next.

“Woah, Pidge!” Lance exclaims, moving the plate too slow to avoid her theft. “Yeah, she’s been taking the beginner silks class I teach on Mondays.” 

Pidge is used to seeing Lance in workout clothes, so it’s a bit jarring to see him cleaned up. Instead of the tank top and yoga pants, he’s wearing some decent slacks and a button up shirt with a black tie. It’s a good look on him, she realizes, and then pushes that thought away. 

“So I know Hunk is here to try and get some more funding for his doctorate,” Lance says “but what are you here for?”

Pidge could be a bit more casual, but she’s practiced her script and might as well brag a bit. 

“I’m on the accelerated doctoral track, focusing on the application of artificial intelligence in climatological analysis. I think we can use AI to predict climate changes, and helping farmers worldwide get better crop yield. Long term, I think we can try and counteract or reduce climate change with AI predictions.” She takes a breath and waits. 

“Wow, you’re really gonna save the world, huh,” Lance says. He’s different, outside of class. More casual, in a way. Pidge assumes it’s because he’s not having to focus on teaching. 

“Someone has to,” she replies. They slip into small talk, Hunk telling Pidge more about his latest project, Lance interjecting on occasion to brag about something Hunk glances over. Pidge almost forgets they’re at a networking event until Matt shows back up. 

“You all look like you’re having a blast,” he says, sidling up to Pidge and resting his arm on her shoulder. It’s an old habit, and after years of Matt using her as an armrest, Pidge has learned to deal with it. “But aren’t you supposed to be talking to faculty, and not each other?”

Pidge and Hunk share a guilty look. Pidge may not have to worry about funding, but she’s sure Hunk does. 

“How about this,” Lance proposes. “Pidge and Hunk each go chat with one more member of faculty, then we all go grab a couple drinks with some friends.” Pidge instantly wants to leave, but it’s also a challenge. She looks to Hunk, and he’s got a determined look on his face. The nod solemnly, and then they’re off, leaving Lance and Matt in their wake. 

Pidge ends up in a decent chat with faculty from the biology department. It’s relevant enough that when Hunk waves her over after the conversation finishes, she doesn’t feel like she’s wasted her time.

“After this, Lance and I were going to grab some drinks. You and Matt want to join?” Hunk makes the offer a little nervously. He’s poking his index fingers together, and as soon as he asks, he looks away from Pidge. It takes her a moment, but Pidge realizes that Hunk really wants them to come with. She’s not sure why, but she’s got a sneaking suspicion that Hunk probably just really wants to be friends. 

“After this, I sure need a drink,” Pidge says. “Where are we headed?”

The look on Hunk’s face when she accepts is worth it. Pidge didn’t do a great job making friends in undergrad; she was too busy taking every class her advisor would allow and filling her spare moments with extracurriculars that would look good on her grad school applications. And when she got her masters, it was the same. 

Pidge knows she got her single-mindedness from her mother. It’s a trait that her father is convinced is genetic, but Pidge had simply seen the results of her mother’s dedication and followed suit, pushing aside the part of her that longed for close friends and companionship and instead working towards getting her doctorate as soon as possible and then a successful career. If her family wasn’t so close, and she didn’t love her brother so much, Pidge would probably spend more time alone than with people. 

It’s not that she doesn’t like friends. She had a few growing up. It’s that friendships always ended up being a distraction. Even the few boyfriends Pidge had were more hassle than they were worth. So she focuses on school. Friends have always been something for after she’s had her fill of success.

But Hunk looks like he wants to pull her into a hug, his face full of relief. Maybe, if it’s Hunk, or even Lance, she could make some time for friends. 

When Matt and Lance finally return from raiding the food table one last time, Hunk explains that they’ll be heading to a bar Lance frequents with other teachers from Altea. Pidge sneaks a sly look at her brother, who can’t act nonchalant about seeing Shiro if his life depended on it. 

~~

The bar that Hunk and Lance lead them to isn’t far from campus. Pidge was never part of the party scene, but she can tell the space is a little too nice for the undergraduate crowd. The decor is a little too antique, a little too rustic, and the twinkling fairy lights make it more of an intimate space than a place to party. As soon as they arrive, Hunk makes a beeline for the bar. Pidge raises an eyebrow at Lance who got left with them at the door. 

“The girl Hunk has a crush on is the bartender,” Lance explains, leading them away from the bar and towards a small group in the corner. “He’s been pining for ages, but refuses to even make a move because he only ever sees her at work and doesn’t want to be a creep.” 

“That’s pretty noble of him,” Pidge replies. It seems like such a Hunk thing to do. 

“I’d agree, but she’s given him her number three times,” Lance counters. “He keeps saying it’s an accident.” Before Pidge can reply, they’ve arrived. Shiro is here, and he greets Pidge and Matt with a smile and wave. Lance makes a grand gesture, as if showing off the siblings, and introduces them to the other two people at the table.

“May I introduce the Holt siblings, Pidge and Matt. They’ve been taking the intro to silks class, but we ran into them at Hunk’s school thing and invited them along.” Lance then gestures to the two strangers at the table: a woman with dark skin and hair dyed a light lavender, and a Korean man with what Pidge can only assume is a mullet. 

“Pidge, Matt, meet Allura. She owns and runs Altea Studios.” Lance makes another gesture in Allura’s direction. “And that’s her asshole husband, Keith.” Lance sticks his tongue out as he says it, and from across the table, Keith flips Lance off. 

“Ignore the boys,” Allura says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Please have a seat!” Matt takes up a seat next to Shiro, of course. And Lance takes up the seat next to Matt, so Pidge is stuck between Allura and Lance. She eyes the bar for a moment, but Allura grabs her attention. 

“So, have you been enjoying your class?” Allura asks, leaning excitedly toward Pidge. 

“It’s been really good,” Pidge answers honestly. She’s still surprised at how much she’s enjoyed class. “It’s hard work. And more exercise than I’ve done since high school gym class. But it’s a lot of fun.” 

Allura beams. “I am so glad,” she says. “The circus arts have always been my passion. Our passion, really,” Allura motions to Keith, who’s deeply engrossed in whatever he’s drinking, “We’ve been running the studio ourselves for the last few years, and it’s so wonderful to have new faces in our classes.” 

Lance leans over the table so he can see both Pidge and Allura. “Allura and Keith were pretty well known for their duo trapeze acts before they settled down with the studio,” Lance interjects. Allura brushes the compliment aside and hones in on Pidge.

“Tell me, how do you know Hunk?” Allura asks.

“Oh, we’re both doctoral candidates at the university,” Pidge offers. “There was a networking event tonight. A lot of schmoozing for funds and showing up to appease faculty.” Pidge gets to put all her work for the night into practice, and goes over her little script to explain her area of study. Both Allura and Keith look impressed, and Shiro finally butts in.

“Matt and Pidge are both practically geniuses,” he brags. He’s known them long enough that it’s not an exaggeration coming from him. “I’m fairly certain Matt is going to figure out how to talk to someone all the way to Pluto.” Beside Shiro, Matt goes red, and Pidge is grateful that the focus of the table is shifting to Matt’s current work. 

When Hunk finally arrives at the table, he’s got four different drinks, and passes them carefully to Pidge, Lance, and Matt, leaving the final one for himself. Pidge takes a drink, and somehow can’t believe that it tastes perfect. 

“Hunk, how in the world did you read my mind?” she demands. He grins in response.

“Drinks are just chemistry, and if I couldn’t figure out the right chemicals to get someone hammered, I shouldn’t be a chemical engineer.” It’s a horrible explanation, but Pidge loves her drink too much to complain. So she takes another drink, and settles in for an evening of socializing.

~~

A couple of hours and a few more drinks later, and the world is nice and fuzzy for Pidge. She has to make sure she doesn’t lean over onto Lance (Drunk Pidge has always been prone to physical affection); instead, she turns back to Allura, who has spent the last half hour trying to convince Pidge to attend more aerial classes.

“You simply must come to apparatus week,” Allura insists. Pidge agrees easily, both because Allura has a charisma that’s hard to deny, and because she’s intrigued by the idea. “My father spent years curating his collection of circus tools, and I’ve continued the tradition—”

“By purchasing every pretty thing that can support a human and hang in the air,” Keith interjects. Allura looks at her husband, aghast, but bursts into a fit of giggles. “And that’s the sign that we’re going home,” Keith says. He leaves the table for the bar, presumably to pay his tab, and Pidge is left desperately trying to catch Matt’s eye as he stares at Shiro. 

Matt and Shiro remain engrossed in a conversation, and Pidge is left with Lance to her right.

“You look less ready to die,” Lance offers. He’s been drinking beer, so he’s not nearly as tipsy as Pidge, who has been drinking whatever lovely concoction Hunk had made for her. Pidge frowns. 

“I wasn’t ready to die,” she counters. It’s not much of an argument. 

“You and Hunk both had this look of total panic at that event,” Lance says. “I know nerves when I see them.” Pidge sits for a moment, before taking another drink. 

“It’s just easier to do the actual academic part,” she finally offers. “People are difficult.” Lance hums in agreement. 

“You seem to have handled these people fine,” he says. Pidge scrunches up her nose. Lance is technically right. But she already knew everyone at the table except for Allura and Keith. She says as much.

“It’s like cheating” she posits. “If you know more than half of a group of people, you can’t really be nervous like with strangers.” Lance shrugs.

“Pidge, I knew you and Matt were siblings, and that you’re incredibly competitive before tonight.” He’s looking directly at her, and Pidge suddenly feels a little small. “When we invited you to drinks, I’m pretty sure Hunk knew more about you than me. I’m practically a stranger.”

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” Pidge says, and immediately regrets that she’s had so much to drink. That’s not something she would have said sober. But it’s true. It makes Lance smile, and Pidge very suddenly wants to do anything to keep him smiling. Distantly, Drunk Pidge realizes that Sober Pidge is in trouble, but what does it matter when he's looking at her like that. 

Eventually, Matt comes to her rescue. How he extracted himself from Shiro, she’ll never know. But he says goodbye to Lance and Hunk for them and then Matt is dragging her out of the bar before she does something stupid. Like any good brother would. 

~~

When the fourth week of class arrives, Pidge has to admit that she’s looking forward to it. The hour and a half break from reading and coding is much more fun than she’d expected. There’s also the added benefit that Lance is not only a good instructor, but attractive as well. But when she enters Altea Studios, Keith is standing among the silks.

He’s just a little shorter than Lance, and he’s got some crazy knee-high socks on over his leggings, one with bright stripes and the other with polka dots in matching colors.. Pidge and Matt approach, and he gives them a nod.

“What are you doing here?” Pidge asks. 

“Lance is sick,” Keith explains. “The downside of running a studio is that when teachers call in, sometimes I have to cover.” He looks a little put out, but shrugs. “Lance left some notes for me, so hopefully we can keep you on track with his schedule.” 

After the rest of the students filter in and Keith makes his instruction as the substitute for the week, class begins. Pidge is halfway through a deep breath, getting ready for a nice sequence of yoga and stretches when Keith gives his first instruction.

“Alright, jumping jacks, let’s go!” Keith shouts, and all of a sudden warm ups are an intense session of cardio with intermittent stretching. Every time they change their exercise, or are given 30 seconds of rest, Keith is shouting more orders. A small part of Pidge is glad that Keith at least does most of the warm ups with the class, but he doesn’t even look winded. Keith has them skipping forwards and backwards across the studio, high knees, and inchworms, which Pidge is sure must be some sort of torture banned by the Geneva Conventions. By the time Keith calls an end to warm-ups, Pidge is reminded of her first day of class, and the sheer exhaustion she felt just from Lance’s tame warm ups. 

Pidge goes to take a drink from her water bottle, only to realize she’s almost completely drained it already. Keith goes hard during warm ups, and she’s worried for a moment that the rest of class will be similarly painful. As she makes her way to the fountain for a refill, she picks up Matt’s bottle as well. It’s similarly drained. 

“Water?” she asks. Matt nods.

Thankfully, Keith waits for everyone to grab their silks before walking them through a simple bit of choreography. It’s all tricks they know, and nothing too hard. 

Pidge likes the challenge of the transitions. Keith has them doing sling work, starting from a Straddle to Gazelle, then moving to standing in the sling. It’s not something Lance has had them do yet, but Keith explains that the process is similar to working with a foot lock. Only it’s a little more risky, since your foot isn’t wrapped in the silk. They work on the little routine for about twenty minutes, Keith walking around and assisting with tricks, before he gets everyone’s attention. 

“So I know you all are taking a silks class, and that’s what you came here to do,” Keith begins. He walks over to the wall, where the ropes that hold the other apparatuses are tied. “But silks aren’t usually my thing.” He points up to the rigging, and continues. “I’m actually more experienced in trapeze, so if you all would like to give trapeze a try, we can throw Lance’s lesson plan out and have some more fun.” 

“As long as it’s not doing one hundred jumping jacks levels of fun,” Pidge replies. He laughs. 

“Trust me, it’s better,” he says. The rest of the class nods or shrugs, and Keith has them putting away the silks and begins taking down the different sets of trapeze across the studio, explaining each as he goes. 

“This one’s meant for two people, so one of you can try it, but there are certain tricks I don’t suggest ever trying on a double,” he says of a thin, unwrapped metal bar hanging from red ropes. “This one is made of carbon fiber, so it’s light, but sometimes that can be tricky if you aren’t expecting it.” He even brings down one of the big circular hoops, and explains that it’s called a lyra.

Pidge picks the carbon fiber trapeze. Something about it calls to her. And she realizes that she has no idea how to even get on the thing. 

“We exclusively have static trapezes at Altea,” Keith explains. “A flying trapeze is a whole affair and requires some serious rigging and safety. There’s a lower bar of entry for static trapeze, and I’ve been using one since I was a kid, so I know my way around one.” 

Keith goes through various safety instructions. Always grab the bar with thumbs wrapped under, not over beside the index finger, unless you want to lose one level of grip and fall off the bar. Don’t jump off your trapeze unless you want to get hit in the head with a solid metal bar. Keep your spine straight and your head forward when hanging upside down, unless you want to smash your face on the crashmat. It’s almost clinical, the way he lists the dangers and how to avoid them. It’s also a little more morbid than how Lance spoke about silks. 

Mounting the trapeze is a challenge. Keith demonstrated the move several times, from his grip, to the swift motion of going upside down while pulling his feet up, moving in a pike under the bar, and then wrapping his knees over the bar. Pidge has to watch him do it three times before she gets an idea of how the motion really works. 

On her own bar, Pidge can’t even get backwards. She’s sure that part of it is her brain screaming at her not to fall backwards, but she can’t get her legs anywhere near the bar. Keith eventually makes his way to her after working with a few of the other students. 

“How’s it going?” he asks. Pidge blows her bangs out of her eyes and sighs. 

“Not great,” she says. “I can’t even get on.” 

“How about I spot you this first time, to help you get a feel for it,” Keith offers. It’s a lifeline Pidge desperately wants to take. But if she can’t do this, she’s going to be mad at herself. She shakes her head. 

“Any tips on convincing the lizard in my brain that I’m not going to die if I try this?” Pidge counters. Keith looks thoughtful for a moment, and then looks at the trapeze. 

“You don’t have to have form right now,” he says. “You just have to get one foot up there. Even if it’s not great, once you have one foot, it’s just a little more work to get on the bar. Think you can do that?” Pidge takes a deep breath and nods. 

“I’m gonna fuck this trapeze up.” Keith grins. 

“Please don’t. My wife really likes that one.” 

“Stop distracting me,” she shoots at Keith. He holds his hands up in defence, but she looks back to the bar, and she can feel the frustration in her coalescing into focus. She’s done this before. Channeled all her anger or hurt or desperation into complete focus. She coded a whole game in the 48 hours after her last boyfriend broke up with her. Her mom calls it Absolute Focus. Her dad calls it the Colleen Murder Vibe. Pidge moves.

She can already tell it’s going to work as soon as she begins. Her grip is sure. She kicks up with her right foot, farther than her left, and desperate to get any grip on the bar. She lets her head and shoulders fall back, but keeps her grip. Her toes meet the bar, and she frantically kicks her other leg up to follow. It happens in the span of a few breaths, but she manages to get one leg, and then the other, over the bar. Keith has an appraising look on his face. 

“I guess Lance was right,” he mutters. Pidge is sure she wasn’t supposed to hear it, because Keith immediately launches into an explanation on how to go from hanging from her knees to sitting on the bar. It’s not unlike going from a Straddle in a sling to sitting on them. But it does involve a little more pulling herself up ropes. 

When Pidge finally finds herself seated on the bar, Keith leaves her with instructions to rest there, and wait for him to get the rest of the class on the bar as well. It’s only a few minutes, but Pidge is reminded of sitting on a swing. If the swing was thin, hurt her butt a little, and was five feet off the ground. 

“One of the easiest tricks for trapeze is called “Lady in the Moon,” Keith explains. “It looks a little nicer on lyra, but just scoot yourself over to one of the ropes. Once you’re there, make sure you’re grabbing the rope nearest you, and bring your feet up against the opposite rope. This is about balance, so if you feel like you’re going one way or another, be sure to correct.”

It’s a simple enough trick, but Pidge finds herself getting nervous butterflies as the trapeze swings in the air as she slowly scoots to the side. The balancing is a little easier, and she finds herself eager to try whatever comes next. 

Keith has them do a variation on starfish, where they push against the opposite rope, but then he nods to himself.

“I think it’s time we practice standing on the bar,” Keith announces. “I’m going to walk you very slowly through the steps, and then you’re going to try one at a time. I don’t want anyone falling on their first try.”

It seems like there are more steps than there should be. Sit back so both knees are on the bar. Bring one foot up to the bar in a crouch. Keep hold of the ropes, but move the hands up as far as possible.. And then, stand, using the free leg for balance. Pidge finds the process tedious, but it prevents too much swinging as she stands. 

Standing on top of the bar is different to climbing the silks. She feels higher, even though she’s nowhere near the rigging. And even though she’s got both feet on the bar and her hands on the ropes, the slightest movement means she has to find her balance again, or fall forward or backward. Its shaky and scary, but the blood in her veins is full of adrenaline and she loves it. 

“Why don’t you all try taking a foot off the bar. Banana split, but on trapeze,” Keith says. Pidge takes her right foot off the bar, tentatively at first. It takes even more effort to maintain balance, but she pushes her leg out farther. She has to hold the ropes tight, but as her feet move apart, it really feels like she’s flying. Nothing beneath her, her body in a small arc away from the bar. Pidge lets out a laugh. Her whole body hurts, and there’s a part of her brain filled with panic at the idea of falling, but it doesn’t matter. Not when she’s in the air. 

Eventually she brings her leg back to the bar, and she feels just a little more grounded. The rest of the class passes faster than Pidge wants. She wants to stay on the trapeze, learn just one more trick. But Keith has them dismount and when her feet touch the floor, all of her exhaustion comes flooding back. 

After cooldown, Keith approaches Pidge.

“You looked like you had fun up there,” he says. Pidge narrows her eyes, but agrees.

“Yeah, it was better than I expected,” she admits. “I kind of want to get on again.” 

Keith nods.

“Well, if you ever want to give it another go, I teach a beginner trapeze class on Wednesdays,” Keith says.

“Trying to snipe me from Lance’s class, huh?” Pidge jokes. Keith’s face gets serious. 

“No. Absolutely not,” he says, his expression stern. “You’ve got more grit than most students who come through here, and if you enjoyed trapeze, I wanted to make sure you knew you’re welcome in my class any time.” Pidge knows what it means to have a teacher praise her. She’s been used to it for a long time, ever since she started school as a kid. But Keith’s compliment feels a little more honest. 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Pidge says, and she does mean it. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, but I appreciate the offer.” Keith shrugs, but Pidge can’t help but glance longingly back at the trapeze. 

Between the excitement and the adrenaline, she forgets to ask Keith about what Lance told him about her.


	3. Goblin on the Butt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge makes a power move. Lance is a professional with his whole ass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to my Beta [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) and my artist [SueMaryRakocy](https://suemaryrakocy.tumblr.com/,).

Pidge and Matt spend a few extra minutes cooling down. In the last few weeks, they’ve learned that if they stick around, they can help Lance put away the silks and maybe catch Shiro if he’d stuck around during the class. Pidge rolls her eyes at how desperate her brother is to get any time with Shiro, but she can’t say she minds. 

Lance is simply fun to be around. He gets a little goofy after most of the other students have left, and Pidge swears she saw him look tired once. 

This week there’s no Shiro, so Lance walks out with the Holts, making sure the studio is locked on his way out. 

“I think Allura might literally strangle me with the silks if I left this place unlocked,” Lance jokes, checking the door with a quick push and pull. 

They part with a wave and a promise of next week, and Pidge piles into the passenger seat of her brothers car. 

“I think my hands are going to be stuck like this forever,” she says, bringing them up to show Matt, her fingers tense and looking like claws. 

“It’s a good look. Like an old witch,” Matt offers. “I think I bruised my inner thigh pretty bad with the side lean.” He pokes at his right thigh and winces. “Yep, that’s not gonna get better overnight.”

Matt hasn’t started the car yet, because they typically take a few minutes to talk about class before they drive away. 

A loud bang from nearby has them both jumping in their seats. They turn to see where the sound is coming from. On the other side of the parking lot, a baby blue beater car is smoking. In the driver seat, Lance has his head on the steering wheel. 

“I think we should go check on him,” Pidge suggests. Matt gives her a look she knows all too well. It’s the “I know you’re a genius, but that’s obvious to everyone here” glare. But Pidge rolls her eyes and opens her door. 

Lance looks worried, and it’s not a look she’s seen on his face before. He’s been concerned for students in his class, as they tried moves and he could tell they were struggling. But now he looks a little lost, and terribly distressed. As she and Matt approach, she peers at the smoking car. It’s a dark gray smoke. There aren’t any flames, but there’s definitely something wrong with it.

“I didn’t think cars were supposed to explode like that,” Matt offers when they reach the car. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t either, but old Bertha was born to defy expectations.” Lance pats the top of the car. “She got me through high school, and I’ve been driving her as long as I can. But she was due for retirement one of these days.”

“Do you know what it could be?” Pidge asks. She’s not a professional mechanic, but she’s taken enough mechanical engineering classes to know the principles behind how cars work. Lance shrugs.

“Normally Hunk fixes her up for me, if he has time. I’ve been meaning to take her to a legit garage for a while, but I haven’t had the cash.” He sighs. “And I’d call Hunk now, but he’s on a date tonight and I don’t wanna make him cancel. What kind of wingman would I be?” He leans onto old Bertha and groans.

“Looks like you and me again tonight, old girl,” he says.

“Wait,” Pidge says, realizing what Lance means. “You’re not planning on sleeping in your car, are you?”

“I’ve done it before. The driver’s seat reclines pretty far.”

“Nope,” Pidge says, grabbing Lance’s arm and pulling him away from his car. “You are not sleeping in your car. You’re going to sleep on our futon.” The words are already out before Pidge realizes what she’s offered. She can almost see Matt’s devious grin behind her. Lance doesn’t move when she pulls, so Pidge has to turn around and face him (and what she’s just done).

“I really couldn’t,” Lance explains. Pidge see’s Matt’s horrible, shit-eating grin behind Lance and would strangle him if it didn’t mean letting go of Lance’s wrist.

“Pidge is right,” Matt counters. “We can’t just let you sleep here in your car. We’ve got a half decent futon and our parent’s Netflix account on the tv.” Lance looks like he wants to take the offer, just as much as it looks like it’ll pain him to do so.

“It wouldn’t be professional,” Lance offers weakly. “If Allura found out I was mooching off students—”

“I’m sure Allura will be glad to know we’ve become such fast friends in just a few weeks,” Pidge replies, tugging on Lance’s wrist a little harder. “We invited you over to our place for some of Matt’s homemade popcorn and a movie, and decided it would be easier to give you a ride, since parking is shit.” She looks up at Lance, half-glaring, half-daring him to disagree. For a moment, she’s sure that Lance will rebuff the offer a third time, but he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, and his resolve melts into a small smile.

“Oh, popcorn and a movie,” Lance says, his eyes bright at the conspiracy they’ve just entered into. “Well that changes things. Are we thinking Rom-Com or Action?” His whole body seems to relax, and the return of his smile has Pidge’s stomach turning in knots. Suddenly, the skin of his wrist feels incredibly warm against her hand. She lets go faster than she realizes and has to turn away from Lance to hide her shock.

“I was thinking more sci-fi,” Pidge says, leading the way to Matt’s car. “Something shiny enough to be fun without being too much work to think about.” She crawls into the passenger seat, turning almost all the way around in her seat to look at Lance, who has sprawled across the back seat. “Plus, Matt makes the best popcorn.”

“If you think we’re watching anything but Fellowship of the Ring, you’re a fool of a Took,” Matt says.

“Maaaaatt,” Pidge groans, drawing out her brother’s name so he knows exactly how frustrated she is with him. “We watched Fellowship of the Ring last week.

“And we’ll watch it again because it’s a good movie, Pidge,” Matt replies. “No Fellowship, no popcorn.”

The drive to their apartment is only ten minutes away. It’s longer when Pidge takes the bus, but Matt can take the direct route. When they park, it’s two flights of stairs up to their apartment, and as she unlocks the door, it suddenly hits Pidge that Lance is going to stay the night.

Shoving the realization aside, she opens the door and says, “Ignore the mess, and welcome to the Holt Hostel.”

Pidge gives Lance the grand tour in a few quick steps. “Couch is there, it pulls out to a futon and we’ll get you blankets whenever you’re ready to sleep.” She points down the small hallway. “Bathroom is on the left, I suggest using it before Matt stinks it up with his evening poop. Towels are under the sink.” She kicks at Matt before he can retaliate for the poop comment. “I’m going to change into something that’s not so sweaty. Do you want a change of clothes?”

“That’d be great, yeah,” Lance says.

Pidge makes it to her room and closes the door behind herself. She grabs a quick pair of shorts and oversized t-shirt for herself, and then frowns. Do they have anything Lance will fit into? He’s taller and thinner than Matt. With a shrug, Pidge grabs two extra shirts and two different pairs of shorts and throws the pile of clothes towards Lance. He quirks an eyebrow at her but walks past her to the bathroom.

“Holy shit, Pidge,” Matt says from the kitchen. He lowers his voice to barely a whisper when she approaches. “That’s the wildest power move I’ve ever seen you pull.”

“He needed a change of clothes, Matt,” she replies.

“I could have lent him some of my clothes,” he says.

“But would they have been clean, Matt? Would you even have something that isn’t due for a wash?” Pidge is poking Matt in the ribs when the bathroom door opens again, and Pidge nearly has to do a double take.

Apparently one of the shirts she’d given Lance wasn’t as oversized as she remembered. It’s a burgundy sweatshirt with the wonder woman symbol on the front in gold, but it’s cut like a crop top for someone more her size, so there’s a sizeable stripe of stomach visible between it and the shorts, which are the main reason Pidge is panicking. They’re pretty standard athletic shorts for a woman, so they’re rather short for Lance, and Pidge can’t help but tear her eyes away from his very long, very toned legs. Lance meets her eyes and does a slow turn, before asking

“Two questions,” Lance says. He puts up one finger as he grins. “One, why in the world do you have a pair of shorts with the word goblin on the butt—” Pidge is ready to spontaneously combust, but Lance continues before she can try and explain— “And two: where do I get a pair for myself?” 

“Sorry Lance,” Matt interjects. “I had those custom made for Pidge when she graduated from college.” Matt moves deftly out of Pidge’s tackling range and into the living room. “My little sister basically lived like a goblin in college, so I got her some commemorative shorts to celebrate her moving in with me and leaving her goblin-y ways behind.”

“In my defense,” Pidge interjects, “everyone acts like a goblin in college.” Then she shoves Matt towards the stove. “Less mocking my college behaviors, more popcorn.” Matt waves her off and starts making the popcorn, and Pidge makes her way to the futon, dramatically falling onto the couch and grabbing the remote. Lance takes a seat at the other end of the couch.

“So Lord of the Rings?” Lance asks. Pidge groans, but grabs the remote and pulls up Netflix. 

“We aren’t watching the extended edition,” she declares. The movie starts, and it’s only a few more minutes before Matt appears with three large bowls of popcorn. 

The movie progresses just as Pidge remembers. It’s not hard when Matt regularly rewatches it at least once a month. Instead of watching the movie, she leans over towards Lance. 

“Is my body ever going to stop hurting after class?” she asks over Sam and Frodo leaving the Shire. Lance shakes his head.

“It only gets worse,” he says. “You’ll reach a point where it doesn’t really hurt too much, but that’s just a sign you need to be doing more difficult moves.”

“Sounds like torture,” Pidge says, shoving another handful of popcorn in her mouth. Lance shrugs.

“But it’s worth it,” Lance says. “There’s nothing like doing aerial.” Pidge wants to reply, but Matt shushes them from his chair, throwing a few pieces of popcorn their way. Pidge responds by throwing some popcorn herself, and it devolves into a small popcorn fight, with Lance occasionally taking his own shots but mostly staying out of the way. 

They barely get through half the movie before Pidge finds herself starting to doze. As she catches her head nodding, she forces herself awake and turns to Lance.

“So why did you start aerial?” she asks in a whisper. If she keeps it down, hopefully Matt won’t be a complete ass. Lance moves from leaning against the far armrest and leans towards Pidge.

“Took a class in high school to impress a girl,” he admits quietly. “Eventually, I realized the girl was shallow, but by then I loved it.” Lance takes another bite of popcorn.

“Enough to teach it,” she says. Lance laughs. 

“Not that being a starving artist isn’t great,” he says. “But sometimes I wish I’d gotten a real degree instead of running off to circus school.” Pidge raises an eyebrow.

“There are real circus schools?” She can believe it, but she also wants to know more. 

“A few,” Lance says. “I convinced my parents that pursuing my art would make me happy, so they helped pay for it, and now I can barely make rent.” Pidge can imagine it isn’t easy. The thing about studying science is that she’s not too worried about finding a job. Especially because she’s going to finish her doctorate at 24.

“It’s cool, though” she says. “Not a lot of people can say they went to circus school.” On screen, Boromir is talking about walking into Mordor, and she grins. “One does not simply walk into circus school.” 

Lance laughs loudly. Pidge glances over to Matt, but he’s not even paying attention to the movie. His gaze is stuck to his phone, and Pidge is sure he’s texting Shiro.

Beside her, Lance stretches. His arms rise high above his head, and the crop top rides even higher. Pidge can’t look away, but she knows it’s not great that she’s ogling Lance. Especially since he’s her aerial instructor. But he yawns with the stretch.

“I think it might be time to turn in,” Lance says. Then he lays back against the armrest again. “Teaching you Holts is no easy feat.” Pidge sticks out her tongue, but stands and tears her eyes away from the stripe of dark skin that she can see at Lance’s stomach.

“I’ll go get you some blankets,” she says, quickly. They’ve got quite a hoard, since both she and her brother get cold easily. There’s a basket nearby, so she grabs a few from the top and drops them on her side of the couch. “Matt can help you with the futon. I’ve gotta get some sleep, or I’ll be useless tomorrow.” Over in his chair, Matt looks up from his phone, which he’s been looking at more than the movie he wanted to watch. 

“And in the morning, I’ll make you the greatest french toast you’ve ever had,” she says. “No artist starves in this house.” Lance smiles, and offers his thanks. Pidge leaves her brother with Lance, and retreats into her bedroom. 

Once the door is closed, she flings herself onto her bed, resisting the temptation to scream into her pillow. She writes code in her head until she drifts off to sleep, still thinking about Lance, laying back on the couch, wearing her goblin shorts. 

~~

The invitation for Generical Company’s yearly tech showcase gala wasn’t something Pidge had expected to receive. But the great thing about her advisor is that Dr. Ryner has a sprawling network of connections and likes to pull strings to get her doctoral candidates well situated in the field far enough in advance that finding a job isn’t an overwhelming task. So Pidge gets dressed up, business professional, with a pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse under her blazer, and heads to one of the biggest tech events in the state on her own. 

Rather than ask Matt for a ride, she takes a Lyft and finds herself arriving with lots of others. The venue is the penthouse of the company’s skyscraper, which is a rather modern event space. 

When Pidge enters, she’s immediately overwhelmed with how busy the event is. The lighting is low, but not so much that it’s impossible to see. The main room has a huge projected video playing the B-roll of some of GC’s latest developments. Around the edge of the room are various booths, all immaculately put together, with screens showing off technology from the different departments. 

She’s itching to investigate the different booths, and maybe make an impression on someone important, but her eyes are drawn towards the table covered in food and the bar. Not the bar, per se, but what’s hanging from the ceiling very near to the bar. And less what, and more who.

There’s a lyra suspended from the ceiling. And suspended from the lyra, hanging from his knees around the hoop, holding a bottle of champagne, is Lance. Pidge is stuck to the ground, staring as Lance deftly pours the champagne from the bottle into the glass of someone standing below, holding up their glass. When he finishes, he sweeps himself back up onto the hoop, depositing the bottle into an ice bucket attached to the hoop, and waving at those below him. 

Pidge can’t resist the temptation, and she makes her way towards the bar. As she draws closer, not only is she certain that that’s Lance up on the hoop, but she can actually see what he’s wearing. And it’s not much at all. Some incredibly tight, incredibly glittery, black booty shorts that leave absolutely nothing up to the imagination. It also looks like he might be wearing a black bow tie, but Pidge can feel her whole body heat up at the sight. Not far off, there’s a table with empty champagne flutes, and she grabs one before approaching.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Pidge says, catching Lance’s attention. From up on the hoop, he grins, and lays himself along the curve of the lyra. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Lance says, his voice thick like honey. When he sees her glass, he pulls himself back into a seated position, and then taps the bucket. “Would you like some bubbly?” Pidge nods, stepping closer to where Lance is suspended in the air, holding up her glass.

Lance grabs the bottle of champagne from the bucket. The movement he does to go from sitting to hanging upside down, the bottle of champagne still upright, is more than graceful. It looks completely possible, but Pidge also spends a little too long staring at the way Lance’s abs flex as he lowers himself. She stands up on tiptoes to get her glass closer to Lance.

He’s definitely putting on a show. Each movement planned, with extra flourishes and when the champagne finally pours into her glass, Pidge has a hard time thinking he doesn’t control the flow of the liquid, rolling in her glass dangerously, until it settles without spilling a drop. 

“Thanks,” she breathes. Lance shoots her a wink.

“Any time, short stuff,” He replies. And then he’s pulling himself back up onto the lyra, depositing the champagne bottle into the bucket, and then doing a slow, deliberate transition to lady in the moon. Pidge is miffed about the short comment, but she can’t keep standing underneath him, staring.

So she steps away, sipping at her champagne, and takes some time to grab some snacks. Pidge is full of cheese and crackers, but she still watches Lance, occasionally pouring a glass for someone else.

As fun as it is to watch, she came here for a purpose. Networking, and possibly getting a job. Pidge tears her eyes away from Lance and begins her tour of the various booths. Some of them have little bearing on her interests, but there is a booth for the AI department. She stays there longer than anywhere else, and eventually gets cards from a couple of people. 

It’s a successful event, but Pidge still can’t get Lance out of her head. The tight booty shorts and how all of his muscles tense when he moves. Her whole body feels hot, so she makes her way to the outer balcony, where more people are congregated and the atmosphere is more social than business. The breeze cools her flushed skin.

The view of the city is breathtaking. The sun is down, but buildings and windows are still bright with light, like stars. Pidge leans against the balcony, enjoying the breeze and the view. Pidge is glad she came tonight, not just because she could see herself working with the AI department here when she finishes her degree. It was good to go alone, leave Matt behind, and prove she could do this herself.

It also doesn’t hurt that Lance is here, dressed practically like a stripper, serving champagne. Pidge tries to push the image of him away, but she’s got a sharp memory, and it’s burned into her mind. Lance may be her instructor, and also her friend. But he’s still hot. Pidge can’t deny that.

Especially now that she’s seen basically his entire ass.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here,” Lance’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts. Pidge startles, but composes herself.

“I could say the same,” she replies. Lance is wearing a simple shirt now, but he’s still only wearing those tight shorts. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Thirty minute break,” Lance replies. He joins her, leaning against the balcony. “Staying up there is exhausting, even if I’m mostly sitting. So I always schedule a nice break halfway through my set.” 

“Do this often?” Pidge asks. Then she feels dumb, because of course, Lance is a professional aerialist. “Serving champagne at fancy events, I mean.” Lance chuckles. 

“I probably do one or two aerial bartending sets a year,” Lance says. “I get a lot more gigs of just being set dressings. You have no idea how much rich people like paying for aerialists to just look pretty at their fancy events.” 

Pidge has some idea. If it meant seeing Lance in those shorts, she’d pay a pretty penny. 

“Gotta pay off those circus school loans, I suppose,” Pdige says. Lance winces. Apparently she struck a nerve. 

“And rent,” he agrees. He takes a step back from the railing. “I’m gonna go stretch in a back room, but I’m glad you’re here.” Lance says it like he means it. “Good luck tonight.”

“You too,” Pidge agrees. When Lance retreats, she’s left alone, staring out into the night. Business cards are weighing down her pockets, and she’s had the chance to network and see Lance in action. She pulls out her phone and summons a ride home.

It’s been a good night.


	4. Apparatus Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge gets her butt touched. Lance is a mermaid. A wild Coran appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how grateful I am to [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) for being such a an excellent Beta? Seriously. Just the best.

Class is canceled, but Pidge can’t resist showing up at the studio for the infamous apparatus week. If anyone had told her at the beginning of the semester that she’d be excited to go exercise every week Pidge might have died from the fits of laughter, but now she’s elbowing Matt at their dingy kitchen table to get him moving.

“Finish your snack. We’re going to be late,” she says. Pidge was ready twenty minutes ago, but Matt had insisted on finding something to eat before leaving.

“We can’t be late to something that doesn’t have a firm start time,” Matt mumbles through his sandwich. 

“I know we can’t be late, but at least don’t make me wait,” Pidge groans. Matt rolls his eyes and continues eating, so Pidge paces back and forth in front of the door. “Everyone is going to be there,” she insists. “Allura said this is her favorite week out of the whole year. Come on!” 

Matt finishes the last bite of his sandwich with exaggerated slowness, then stands from the table. 

“Keep your shorts on,” he says. And they’re off.

~~

As it turns out, apparatus week is nothing like Pidge expects. The studio isn’t full to bursting, but there’s more kids than she’s seen before. Allura greets them at the door, and gives a brief talk to Pidge, Matt, and a pair of kids who’d entered at the same time.

“Don’t just jump on any apparatus you see. Always ask an instructor about the best mounting practices if you’re not sure. And ask for a spot if you feel like you might be hurt, or falling. All of these are tools for aerial, but they can be dangerous if you’re careless.” 

And then they’re free to explore. Unlike most weeks, there are no silks dangling from the rafters. In fact, it looks like most of them have been taken down, leaving more room for the new apparatuses. Pidge isn’t sure where to look. She spots a crescent moon version of a lyra where a lyra is normally rigged; and over on the other side of the studio what looks like a huge rope ladder hangs Keith is perched several rungs up, talking to the small group of students crowded around him. 

Not far away, though, a set of chains hangs from the beams above. Below, Shiro is doing some light stretches. He doesn’t have his prosthetic on and is wearing a skin tight tank top and yoga pants, and Pidge can almost feel the heat beginning to radiate off Matt beside her. She leads the way towards Shiro, and Matt follows along. There are a couple of other people, and Shiro greets them when they approach. 

“I don’t use the chains a lot,” Shiro explains “because they’re harder on the body than something like silks or straps. But these are set up kind of like a sling, and it’s a completely different experience.” To illustrate, Shiro does a one armed pike, wraps his legs up in the chains, and pulls himself easily into an seated position. 

“Can you show us a couple of tricks?” asks one of the women nearby. Shiro smiles and moves from being seated into a complex wrap of his legs and arm, twisting so he’s stretched out, but still surrounded in chains. 

“God, I wish he’d tie me in chains,” Matt whispers beside her. Pidge wants to roll her eyes and punch her brother, but from the other side of Matt, a voice agrees.

“He does tend to have that effect on people,” Lance chimes in conspiratorially. Matt’s face turns a darker shade of red, and Pidge can’t help but bust out laughing at her brother’s expense. Pidge didn’t notice Lance appear, but he’s in his usual teacher gear just like Shiro. As Matt tries to fumble a response. Lance points towards another apparatus rigged close by.

“I’m in charge of the net today, if you want to take a look,” he says to Pidge. Pidge nods, and they both leave Matt grumbling as he watches Shiro do another move in the chains. Turning away from her hopeless brother, Pidge follows Lance to a nearby setup. 

It almost looks like a standard sling, but as Lance reaches up to the fabric, Pidge realizes it’s not fabric at all. Rather than solid silks, the sling is made out a loose netting, small enough holes that a foot won’t go through, but large enough that she can see through the material easily. Lance does a fluid mount, his lower body moving smoothly into a pike, and then hooks his knees over the fabric. Pidge still doesn’t have a solid pike for sling work down yet, but watching Lance makes it look as simple as walking. 

Lance moves the fabric apart, falling backwards into the makeshift hammock, and laying out so that the netting is spread out and obvious. Several other students watch near Pidge, and she knows she has the same dumb look on her face. It’s always impressive, seeing Lance do anything in the air. But there’s something a little extra magical about the net. With the obviously matching fish scale leggings, he almost looks like a trapped mermaid. 

Even though she wants to keep going and look at the other new apparatuses, Pidge can’t look away. Lance eventually stands up on the net, and does a couple of beginner moves she recognizes from class. In principal, the net works just like silks do, just as a sling. When Lance finally comes down from the air, she’s first to speak.

“Can I try?” Pidge asks. Lance has his serious teacher face on, but he steps aside and gestures towards the silks. 

“Be my guest,” Lance says. It’s just a few steps until she’s under the net, and Pidge realizes all too quickly that the net is rigged much higher than she’s accustomed to. When she reaches up, she can just barely get her hands around the netting. She’s seen Lance do the mount before, but as Pidge makes her first attempt, she fumbles with getting her feet high enough over her head, and ends up back on her feet. 

“I think I may need some help,” she admits reluctantly. It’s embarrassing, especially in front of other students. But Lance approaches, all business.

“It is rigged a little high for you,” he offers gently. “I can help you get up, but I am gonna have to grab your legs, is that okay?” Pidge looks down from where she’s glaring at the net, to look at Lance. His brow is creased, and he’s close, but nowhere near touching her. 

“Yeah, I think I just need a little lift,” Pidge agrees. Lance steps up beside her. 

“Try and think about inverting for a lower sling. Just keep your legs together, and when we get them up there, you just need to get them over the net.” Pidge nods. Lance moves to a half crouch, tense beside her. 

Pidge takes a deep breath, the way she always does when she has to do something difficult. It centers her, pulls her away from the moment, and into herself. The internal quiet only lasts a moment, and then she’s pulling herself up and back. 

And Lance’s hands are on her, pushing her up as well. She’s just got a foot in the net when her brain puts two and two together, and Pidge realizes that Lance isn’t just holding her legs, he’s also got a hand on her butt, firmly holding it up as she throws her legs over the net. There’s a flash in the back of her brain, a part of her that likes the touch, but Pidge pushes that aside to focus on the task at hand. Lance quickly steps back when she’s got a good enough grip on the net with her legs, and she’s glad that hanging upside down makes anyone’s face turn red.

The net itself is strange. It’s not smooth like silks, so it feels a little scratchy. But Pidge pulls herself into a seated position, and then carefully into standing. She grabs only a portion of the net near the edges, and puts her left foot forward, arching her back and pushing forward into one of the first tricks she ever did, banana split. Because she’s only grabbing part of the net, she ends up moving farther out than she’s accustomed to. The balance is off, and she can feel her toes in the net catching on the holes. Pidge does another quick trick, but finds that the net isn’t quite her speed.

Dismounting is a little clumsy, but when Pidge has her feet on the ground, she looks back up at the net, trying to find words to describe what it had felt like. Other students are lining up to try, and Lance is watching them carefully.

“That’s weird,” she settles on, at last.

“It’s not for everyone,” he agrees. “Keep looking. You might find something you love.” Pidge turns away from Lance and the net, and takes a look. She’s still intrigued by Keith over on the rope ladder, but then her eye catches something completely different. Rigged lower like a lyra, is a hollow cube. The edges of the cube are made of metal tubing, slightly larger than a lyra, but everything else is empty. 

The cube is hanging from one side, a spanset connecting each corner to a swivel on the rigging above. It’s slowly rotating, so Pidge can see the sides parallel to the ground, and then the outline of the square on one of its edges, over and over. Pidge walks towards to cube, unsure of what someone would even do with something like that.

“I see you’ve noticed our cube!” From out of nowhere, an incredibly enthusiastic mustachioed man appears beside the cube. “Interested in taking it for a spin?” The man pushes the cube gently, and it begins to rotate a little faster.

“Yeah,” Pidge manages, wide-eyed. Something about the cube feels like it’s calling to her. The man stops it from spinning. 

“Any trapeze experience?” he asks. 

“Just once. When Keith subbed for the beginner silks class.” 

“Well, my budding young aerialist, let me, the fantastic Coran, guide you through your first cubist experience.” Pidge can’t help but bust out laughing. She’s never seen this man, Coran, at the studio before, but he’s all energy and joy. And apparently horrible puns. 

“Lead the way,” Pidge replies, her nerves about the strange apparatus completely gone in the face of extreme humor. Coran walks her through the basics of mounting the cube. It’s low enough that she can actually get a leg up while standing, so she ends up sitting on the bottom bar while Coran holds it. 

“Ready for the spin?” Coran asks. Pidge nods, and he gently pushes the sides of the cube, so it begins to rotate. Pidge reaches up, grabbing the top bar. The cube is large enough that she doesn’t have to extend all the way. She’s sure that anyone much bigger than her would feel a little cramped within it.

Thinking of her brief stint with trapeze, she lowers her bottom half back, and manages to stand up on the bottom bar while holding onto the top. Every movement she makes throws off the balance of the cube. With the trapeze, it was just the bar to manage, but the cube is more than two ropes and a bar. It’s a physics puzzle, and Pidge is the solution. 

“Excellent work, my dear,” Coran cheers. Pidge takes the compliment, and thinks about her next move. She’s not sure if she could actually get on the top bar herself, but considers the side bar behind her. Pidge leans back, throwing off the balance of the cube, but holding tight and firmly pressing her feet to the bottom bar. Her butt is near the bar behind her, so she takes one foot off, and falls farther back. 

Everything moves quicker than she expects. Her back does hit the side bar, but it hurts, and she’s lost balance. Very quickly her brain goes into panic mode, but before she can start slipping and falling, Coran grabs the cube and pushes the bottom bar down. 

“Doing okay there?” he asks, gently. Pidge nods, but returns to standing in the middle of the cube. Then, very slowly, she lowers herself to the bottom bar. From there, dismounting is just like a trapeze, and she discards all sense of pride by falling gracelessly to the floor. 

“I love it,” Pidge breathes. Her lungs are begging for air, but she can’t help but want to get back up. 

“How about we get you some water and give it another go?” Coran suggests. Pidge looks to the cube, and nods.

After two more times getting on the cube and only almost falling once, Pidge thinks she should go look at a few of the other apparatuses, like Matt, but she doesn’t want to leave the cube. A few other students make their way over, and she uses their time with the cube to drink water and look around. A few more people have arrived, some of whom she can recognize from class, but several people have also left. The studio is a little more empty. She takes a moment to watch Lance do a move in his net. He’s got one foot up, in a foot lock, with his other hanging free down behind him. But the most impressive part of the trick, is that the other portion of the net is around his neck, so he’s using his shoulders and leg to maintain the pose. 

It looks difficult. But it also looks incredibly beautiful. From where Pidge is lazily sprawled on the crashmat, she’s got a prime viewing spot to watch Lance transition between moves. Matt would call it ogling, but it’d be a shame to not watch. She’s got the most experience with Lance, but every aerialist she’s seen is art in motion. 

Eventually, Matt finds her at the cube.

“We have to go home,” he insists. They’ve been at the studio longer than their weekly class. Pidge can feel the exhaustion seeping into her muscles, but she wants to stay. Instead, she lets Matt pull her off the floor and waves goodbye to Coran. 

At the exit to the studio, Allura asks them about their experience, and promises that some of the apparatuses will remain rigged all week. Pidge knows she’ll be back.

~

On Tuesday, Pidge takes the bus to Altea studios. Matt had looked ready to die when she suggested that he join her again for apparatus week, so she makes the journey on her own.

The crowd is different. Pidge doesn’t recognize most of the faces, but the whole studio looks completely different. Where Lance was stationed yesterday, there’s a huge vertical spiral, spinning slowly with Allura moving inside it. Where Shiro was working with chains, there’s a rope, and Lance is on the ground beside it. 

There’s also something that looks suspiciously like a spider web within an octagon lyra. It looks spooky, and Pidge is a little sad that Halloween has come and gone. At the front, instead of Allura, Keith is standing guard. 

“Looks like you’ve returned,” he says. Pidge nods. 

“You meant it, when you said Allura buys anything that she can,” Pidge observes. Keith laughs. 

“To be fair, when her father passed a few years ago, we inherited his collection as well as the studio,” Keith says. “But when something pretty catches her eye, there’s no stopping Allura. She’s a force to be reckoned with.” He’s got a fond look on his face, and as he turns to look at Allura in the spiral his eyes soften, and Pidge suddenly feels like an intruder into something intimate. 

She leaves Keith at the door, and makes her way to the spiral. It’s absolutely impressive, and the spin makes it even more beautiful. Allura transitions to an easily seated position, and waves to Pidge.

“You came back,” Allura cheers.

“I was told every day would be different,” Pidge says. Allura positively beams. 

“I’m so pleased. I spoke to Coran during setup earlier today, and he’s looking forward to seeing you again.” Allura points to the back to the studio, where the cube is still rigged. Pidge wants to go back there, and try the cube again. But there’s so much to do. 

Instead, she tours the new apparatuses. She does take a spin on Allura’s spiral, looking nowhere near as graceful as Allura. Then she checks out the spider web, which is a weird texture, so she leaves without getting on. Before she goes to the cube, she stops by Lance and his rope.

When she approaches, Lance is almost at the top. He’s holding on with his hands, and only his hands. Lance swings his legs once, twice, and then does a complete backflip, letting go of the rope. Pidge can feel her heart in her throat when Lance is in freefall. She can barely breathe, watching Lance fall in the air. The drop is long, and when Lance is right-side up again, he grabs the rope. He stops with his legs just a couple of feet from the mat. 

Pidge can finally breathe again, and when Lance turns, he grins at her.

“Back for more?” he asks. Pidge remembers yesterday, trying out the net, and the feel of Lance’s hands on her body. She swallows. 

“I figured if most of these are only out once a year, I might as well stick around and take a look.” 

“See anything you like?” Lance asks, a smirk on his face. Pidge can feel her face heating up. The innuendo is obvious, but before she can stutter out a response, Lance is back on the rope and halfway to the ceiling. In the air. Lance does a move that has him horizontal, moving his arms lazily, as if just maintaining the pose isn’t incredibly difficult. “Corde lisse is one of my favorites.” 

“Sounds French,” Pidge comments. Lance slowly lowers himself down the rope. 

“Only the finest French rope for the students of Altea,” he says, offering it to Pidge. She takes the rope. It’s smoother than she expects. Softer too. Pidge gives it a little squeeze, but it’s solid. 

“This makes me feel like I’m in gym class,” she says. Then she steps forward, and starts climbing. Now that she knows the real trick to climbing, it’s a breeze. Or as easy as hoisting herself up a rope can be. The thickness of the rope throws her off, though. With silks, the fabric moves and shapes to her foot, but the rope is more solid, and so she has to press extra hard with her feet. She makes it up the rope in no time, and descends quickly.

“It’s different,” Pidge observes. “And it makes my feet feel funny.” She considers giving it another try, but in the back of her mind, the cube is calling. Pidge offers the rope back to Lance. He laughs, but takes it back. 

“Ten weeks ago, you couldn’t even climb a rope. And now you’re complaining about the feel of an apparatus.” Lance gives Pidge a quick once-over. “We’ll make an aerialist of you yet.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, but leaves Lance with the rope and makes her way to the back of the studio. “I thought that’s what class was for?” she says over her shoulder, one last parting shot. But she doesn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she turns to Coran, who is stroking his mustache, lost in thought. 

“It’s still up,” Pidge says. All of the other apparatuses changed. But the cube remains. 

“Yes, I thought it could use some extra time in the air,” Coran explains. Then he turns to Pidge. “I have a keen sense for this kind of thing. Why, when Allura was just a baby, I told her father: Just you wait, this girl is going to grow up on the trapeze—” Coran gestures to Allura, who is still in her spiral— “and wouldn’t you know it, the moment she first developed a good enough grip, I had her on the trapeze.” 

Pidge spends the rest of her time at the studio on the cube. It’s exhausting, but she loves it. Every move she makes is a puzzle, and every time she manages to get the cube to move in a certain way, she has one more piece added to the picture. At the end of her time, her body aches, but she looks over at Coran.

“If I come back tomorrow, will it still be rigged?” Pidge asks. Coran nods.

“I’ll keep it up all week, if you want.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Pidge comes every day that week. It means she’s exhausted most days, but she can’t help but feel that it’s worth it. She tries out Keith’s rope ladder later in the week when it’s rigged again. On Thursday, Shiro has a harness on that holds up a lyra, which Allura is doing tricks from. She can’t wait to tell Matt what he’s missing. 

But she spends the greater part of her time on the cube, trying new moves and generally enjoying Coran’s company as he spots her. By the end of the week, Pidge feels almost competent on the cube. On the final night of apparatus week, when she leaves, Pidge can’t help but think that she’s leaving something important behind.


	5. The Deadline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has a breakdown. And tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) for the excellent job beta-ing this.

The email from Ryner comes just like Pidge expects it to. She still hasn’t turned in her latest few pages of her thesis, or the code fixes she was supposed to include either. 

They aren’t done.

Apparatus week had her spinning and flying and exhausted, and she hasn’t done any work at all over the past week. And then when she missed the deadline, she just kept going back to Altea to distract herself from her mistakes. 

The email is short and sharp:  
 _“Pidge,_

_It’s been a week since your due date, and I haven’t received your work. Let’s meet tomorrow at 1 to talk about this.  
-RR”_

The sinking dread at the back of her mind finally blossoms into full-on panic. Her whole body aches from this week’s aerial class, but she knows it won’t be a good conversation if she doesn’t have anything for Ryner tomorrow.

Pidge makes midnight coffee like she used to in college, what Matt likes to call her gremlin days. She’s working in the kitchen with the lights off. If she goes to her room, her bed and sleep will be too much of a siren song. But she doesn’t want Matt to know how far behind she is.

One a.m. rolls around, and Pidge can tell she’s hitting a wall. Her fingers are stiff and can’t keep up with how fast she’s thinking. But even as she runs the code fixes in her mind, she knows they still won’t work. She’s missing something.

At two, the lights in the kitchen flick on, making Pidge wince. Matt is standing by the switch, frowning.

“Why are you still up?” he asks, looking from Pidge, to her laptop, to the mug of coffee beside her, and then to the mostly-empty coffee pot on the counter.

“I just needed to work on something and it came to me,” Pidge lies, focusing on her screen to avoid his gaze. She doesn’t like lying, especially not to Matt. It’s not fun. 

His frown deepens.

“You know that you can let me know if you need help, right?” Matt offers. His tone is kinder than she anticipates.

“I’m fine Matt. I just need to get this done by tomorrow and—”

“Pidge, you haven’t had midnight coffee in years. I thought you were managing your time better.” Matt has always been overprotective and perceptive, and she’s always been grateful for his care and attention. But Pidge is getting her doctorate, and she’ll deal with this on her own.

“I’m managing my time just fine,” Pidge shoots back, her voice tight. She doesn’t need Matt to know she missed a deadline. He’ll start babying her again. She closes her laptop quickly, and gathers it from the table. She leaves the mug of coffee and pushes past Matt to her room.

“I’ll get some sleep,” she says, without looking back.

Instead she lays in her bed, caffeine and adrenaline pumping through her veins. She can’t stop thinking about Ryner’s email, about how she missed last week’s deadline because she wanted to spend more time at Altea and on the cube. How it felt to just sit and chat with Lance when she was taking breaks. How he smiles when she makes a joke. How she can’t stop seeing him in her mind when she’s trying to read, or code, or climb a silk. 

She’s immensely distracted, and, for the first time since Pidge learned to write code, running over the lines in her head does nothing to soothe her. 

~~

The elevator ride to the third floor of the science admin makes Pidge’s stomach queasy. She’s been doing backflips and hanging upside-down every Monday night with no issues, but now her stomach betrays her. She nods to the pair of secretaries that work for each professor on the floor, and makes her way down the hall on the left.

The door is open when she arrives, so Pidge knocks on the frame before entering. Ryner is a bit of a conundrum. She’s a preeminent scholar in artificial intelligence. She’s who people go to when they want to build huge algorithms. Pidge chose to study under her for two reasons: because Ryner is a brilliant woman in the field, and because Ryner never compromises. She’s always wearing long cardigans, and her whole office is filled with plants that by all rights shouldn’t be thriving. But Ryner loves to garden and grow things almost as much as she loves AI. So her shelves are lined with books on code, AI, and the occasional horticultural tome. 

If Pidge was going to save the world with her work, she had to study under Ryner. But now she has to face her mentor with disappointment looming.

“Come in, Pidge,” Ryner says easily. She’s smiling, of course. But Pidge has been in this office enough to know that this isn’t just going to be a casual chat. Pidge drops her bag by one of the chairs, and takes a seat. 

“I’m going to get to the point,” Ryner begins. “You’ve been one of the most dedicated people I’ve worked with, Pidge. I supported you for the accelerated track because I believed you when you said that nothing would get in the way of you getting your doctorate in two years.” Ryner pauses for a moment, and then sighs. “I still believe that you can achieve that goal, but I need to know if you do.” 

Pidge looks up from where she was staring at the floor, and immediately regrets it. Ryner has the disappointed mom look, and Pidge can feel the weight of it. 

“I got distracted,” Pidge offers, after a time. “I’ve been taking an aerial acrobatics class, and I stayed late.” 

“I understand not meeting the deadline,” Ryner says. “But I don’t understand why you couldn’t let me know, or why you still haven’t turned in your edits.” Pidge slumps lower in the chair. 

“I keep trying to work on the edits, but I can’t get this portion to work,” Pidge finally admits. “I can’t focus.” 

“I’m going to give you until midnight Friday,” Ryner offers. It’s only three days, but it’s something. “If you can get me the edits, or at least a write-up of where you want to go with an outline of what’s not working, we’ll get back on schedule.” 

Pidge wants to cry in relief. Of course Ryner wants her to succeed. 

“But,” Ryner continues, and Pidge can feel her hope sinking by the minute. “If you can’t meet that deadline, or you fail to meet any other deadlines this year, I’m going to speak with the dean about putting you back on the regular track. You’ll be partway through your third year, but it will require you to complete another year. And we’ll slow down your schedule and process.” 

And there’s the consequence. Pidge has been offered a lifeline, but she doesn’t have another chance if she can’t get this done. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Pidge says. Her voice wavers, but she means it. “I’ll have it to you by Friday.” Ryner nods, and that’s the end of the discussion. 

Pidge stands and grabs her bag, determined to spend a couple of hours in the library, and hopefully finish her late work. As Pidge leaves, Ryner calls to her. 

“It’s good to make sure you’re getting exercise, but maybe consider dropping the aerial class while you finish your degree,” Ryner says. “You don’t need distractions getting in the way of your success.” Pidge nods politely and rushes out of the office, her heart racing. 

Quit aerial? She hadn’t even considered the possibility. She likes taking the classes with Matt. It’s a challenge she’s not encountered before. But there’s the other factor: Lance. Pidge didn’t finish her work because she’d been at apparatus week, but at least part of the reason she was there was to see more of Lance. Sure, she’d spent most of her time on the cube, but those moments of rest, where she could watch Lance do tricks on whatever apparatus he had been assigned, were at least part of the reason why she’d kept going back. 

And now Pidge can’t focus on her work. And she knows why. 

She gets in the elevator, taking several deep breaths before letting herself unwind. She’s shaking, partially with nerves, and partially because she’s upset. She doesn’t know if she’s more angry with herself for letting things get so out of hand, or with Ryner, for suggesting she drop aerial. But she can’t be too mad at the woman, since it’s obvious her advisor is just looking out for her.

This isn’t something she can get through herself. Pidge runs through a quick flowchart in her head, deciding quickly who she needs to go to to vent, to get advice, and to hopefully resolve this issue. She pulls out her phone and dials. Three rings, and she’s connected. 

“Hey dad,” Pidge’s voice cracks. “Are you busy?”

“For you? Never. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

~~

The Holt family home isn’t actually very far away from the university. Pidge went to college several states away, but when she was looking into doctoral programs, she always knew she’d end up back at the school where her father teaches. Matt had, as well. It seems to run in the family. 

That means it’s just a simple bus ride to the entrance to the neighborhood, and then a casual walk through the streets she grew up on as a kid. Even the act of just walking home has Pidge at ease. It’s been a couple of months since she and Matt last visited Even though they live in the same town, Pidge doesn’t see her parents much. 

By the time she turns the corner to see the house, she’s starting to tear up. Pidge pushes through the front door, only to be accosted by Bae Bae. Pidge takes a moment to chastise her dog, before collapsing on the floor to pet him relentlessly. When Bae Bae is finally satisfied with pets, Pidge gets up and makes her way into the house, and towards the kitchen.

There’s a soft herbal aroma coming from the kitchen, and when Pidge turns the corner, she sees her father pouring tea from a kettle into a pair of cups at the table. 

“Hey Dad,” Pidge says. Samuel Holt looks up from the tea he’s pouring with a smile, and Pidge can’t help but feel like a kid again. She might be twenty-five, but there’s something comforting about being with her father here, in her childhood home, making tea. Her father gestures to a seat at the table.

“Well, have a seat,” he says. “I figured this was going to be a conversation that needed warm drinks.” Pidge drops her bag at the door and makes a beeline for her seat. From the smell in the air, her father had made some type of chai. Tea isn’t Pidge’s first choice of a drink, but she won’t turn away warmth and caffeine.

For a few minutes, things are quiet. Pidge and her father both take a few moments to add the appropriate amount of sugar and milk to their drinks (a modest amount for Pidge, and enough to make Pidge wince for her father). She wishes her dad would just ask what’s wrong, but Pidge has been having heart to hearts of over tea with her father for years, and Sam Holt isn’t the type to push a subject. Pidge takes a drink from her tea, and begins.

“So I missed a deadline for Dr Ryner,” she begins. Beside her, Sam’s brow furrows, but he just takes another sip of tea. “I still haven’t finished the work I was supposed to, but we met today. She’s given me an extension but—” Pidge cuts herself off, unsure about how to continue. 

Her father puts down his cup and looks at her steadily, and it’s only in this moment that she realizes she’s going to have to explain everything.

She takes a deep breath and suddenly the words are spilling out.

“So back at the end of August, Matt got me to take an aerial acrobatics class with him. I’m still not very good, but I really enjoy the class, and also the instructor is really nice, and I’ve been spending too much time with Lance, which is why I haven’t finished my work for Ryner yet, and I think I may have a crush on Lance but he’s teaching the class and that’s not appropriate and Ryner told me to stop taking my aerial class if it’s going to interfere with my degree, but I can’t imagine quitting, but if I miss another deadline I can’t be in the expedited program anymore.” It all comes out in a rush, and Pidge finds herself struggling to breathe as she begins to cry.

Her father leans over and pulls Pidge into a hug. With his arms around her, Pidge begins to cry in earnest. All of the stress and anxiety she’s had built up for the past week comes out in her sobs. Her father slowly massages her back, and Pidge lets herself truly be upset about everything. In the back of her mind, she realizes that she just told her father that she has a crush on Lance, but that’s to be dealt with later. Right now, she’s just glad to have a safe place to cry. 

It’s not that she couldn’t trust Matt with this, but that she doesn’t want him to worry. She doesn’t really want anyone to worry. Plus, Pidge knows that Matt will blame himself for getting her into aerial in the first place. Sometimes it just feels nice to cry, and she doesn’t want to balance making Matt feel okay with the sob fest she has going on right now. 

It takes a few minutes for Pidge to regain her composure. She knows from experience that her face is red and puffy, but once she’s got most of her crying out of the way, she just has hiccups and wants to drink tea. Her father lets her go, and she goes back to her teacup. As she starts to drink, he finally speaks.

“Is this something you’d like advice on, or did you just want to cry and drink tea?” he asks. Pidge lets out a shaky laugh, and nods. 

“I think I need some help,” she admits. Pidge looks up from her tea. “How did you manage being married and getting your doctorate?” She knows her parents got married while they were both in school, but she’s never asked before now. Her father sits back and strokes his chin for a moment.

“The marriage was easy,” he says. “The hard part was when your mother had Matt. We were both about to finish our degrees, and we’d been hoping to have children after we were finished. But timing doesn’t always work out the way you hope. Once Matt was born, I took time off my doctorate and stayed at home while your mother finished her degree.” Her father smiles. “That’s also when I picked up the hammered dulcimer.”

“You’re telling me you stopped going to school to take care of Matt and learn the worst instrument ever?” Pidge groans. Sam looks aghast.

“I thought you loved it when I played for you?” he asks. Pidge laughs. 

“I do,” she admits. “It’s just weird to hear the Star Wars theme on hammered dulcimer.” 

“We Holts have to have our strange hobbies,” her father says. “It looks like you found yours.” Pidge hiccups a little. “If you have to take longer to finish your doctorate, that’s fine. I wouldn’t trade the semesters I took off to take care of Matt for anything. And you should make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, on all fronts, before making yourself suffer for a piece of paper.”

“Don’t let mom hear you saying that,” Pidge says. Her mother has always given pragmatic advice. It’s part of the reason why Pidge is on her current career path. “If I don’t achieve more success than her, she might explode.”

“Your mother wants to see you shine,” Sam says, “but she doesn’t want you to be hurt.” Then he squeezes Pidge a little tighter. “Now tell me about this boy. Lance, was it?”


	6. The Yule Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the holiday season. Also, there's kissing in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas in July, everyone. For some reason, I really wanted to have a Yule party in this fic, so here it is. 
> 
> Big thanks once again to my Beta [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/).

Pidge doesn’t miss another deadline. In fact, she barely does anything besides school work and aerial. Matt constantly has a worried look on his face, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leaves Pidge alone. 

When December hits, Altea Studios undergoes a transformation. Pidge and Matt show up for class to a studio decked in garlands of evergreen and christmas lights everywhere. A large poster on the bulletin board at the entrance advertises an event just before Christmas. Early enough that people will show up, but not at the beginning of the month. While Pidge is still paying penance for her missed deadline, the party is going to be after her work is done for the semester, so when Matt finally gives her his big puppy eyes, she relents.

When Pidge and Matt show up for the Yule party, Pidge is glad to see that most of the attendees are college-aged or older, and it’s definitely geared more towards the adult crowd. Pidge spies a food table piled high with food and a bowl of punch with several bottles of liquor beside it. Honestly, her hidden talent is probably finding food tables at interpersonal events. She leaves Matt in the dust and makes her way to where Keith is manning the punch bowl.

“Glad you could make it,” Keith says. Then he hands her a cup of punch. “Spike at your own risk. Allura always plans weird games for once the party gets started, and if you want to win, you may want to stay sober.” Pidge considers the advice for the moment, and adds a small splash of rum to the beverage. 

It’s sweet, and the rum adds a nice spice to the flavor. Keith gives her a look, before sighing to himself. It looks like he’s building himself up to something.

“I know I mentioned my trapeze class before,” he begins, “but I really think you’d enjoy it.” Pidge wants to interject, and let Keith know that she definitely doesn’t have time to add another aerial class to her scheduler, but Keith continues: “And the fundamentals of trapeze would translate to the cube quite easily.” He nods to the beams high above, where the cube is still rigged. 

Everything else from apparatus week has been put away, but the cube is still rigged. She gives Keith a look, and he looks away, like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“I’ll think about it,” Pidge replies, taking another drink. Keith looks terribly pleased with himself, and she turns around so she can’t see his smug look anymore. Darn Keith and his terribly tempting trapeze class. 

Pidge makes her way over to where Allura is chatting with a group of students. It’s casual, and not for the first time, Pidge is grateful for the break from her studies. 

“The Spring Showcase this year should be thrilling,” Allura is saying. “We’ll have sign-ups in January, so start thinking about it if any of you want to preform.” When Pidge joins the crowd, Allura turns to her. 

“We especially encourage first time performers in our Spring Showcase,” she says. Pidge glances from Allura back over to Keith, who is decidedly not looking at her. She hadn’t even considered doing much more than going to silks class, but it seems that these two have been plotting against her behind the scenes.

“I feel like most of my spring is going to be spent defending my doctorate,” Pidge says, by way of avoiding answering the question. 

“I completely understand,” Allura says. “But if a spark of motivation hits you, do reach out. We’re always looking for a little variety in our acts.”

“I heard something about games?” Pidge asks, desperate for a change in conversation. Allura turns, her eyes glinting. 

“I see my husband has been warning the new blood,” she says. Pidge is a little worried at Allura’s tone. “Nevertheless, no warning could prepare you for the Yuletide Games. I hope you’re ready to experience the holidays like never before.” A few of the other students look as worried as Pidge feels, but thankfully, a handful who Pidge recognizes as veterans of the studio don’t look nearly as concerned. 

“I never back down from a challenge,” Pidge replies, taking a long drink from her cup. “And I love winning.” She meets Allura’s fierce gaze. The stare off lasts only a few seconds, but Allura breaks first. 

“Finally, a worthy champion,” Allura says, dramatically. Then, over her shoulder, she shouts to her husband. “Keith, put Pidge down for The Gauntlet.” Pidge suddenly has the suspicion that she has no idea what she’s in for. 

~~

As it turns out, The Gauntlet is three tests, each covering strength, dexterity, and agility. About halfway through the party, once everyone has time to mingle, Allura announces the games. Not everyone participates, but Pidge is pleased to see Shiro and Lance join the fray, along with a handful of other students. Matt is off to the side, drinking and cheering for Shiro. Not his sister, obviously. 

Strength is first, and Allura gestures dramatically as Keith returns from the small office with a tree trunk wider than Pidge. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor in front of the participants. Pidge is sure she feels the floor shake a little. Then he looks at each of them.

“Whoever can carry this back and forth across the studio the most times wins,” Keith deadpans. The participants each take a turn, and while Pidge makes a valiant effort, she can only make it once across the studio before she has to drop the log. Lance manages a handful of laps, before collapsing. 

The winner is Shiro, who lifts the tree trunk with his left arm, before hoisting it onto his shoulder, and casually walking back and forth across the studio, whistling jingle bells as he goes. Pidge is put out at the loss, but also, it’s good that she’s not the only person who had trouble.

Allura announces the dexterity challenge next. They have to untangle a string that’s been knotted over and over. It seems random, but Pidge loves the puzzle of it. They all sit quietly, each person concentrating on their own string. Pidge finishes the last three knots in quick succession and shouts when she holds up her string. The others look on dismayed, and Pidge preens. 

The final challenge is agility, and Allura and Keith together put together a simple obstacle course, finishing with a climb up some silks. Pidge looks at the jumps, crawls, and the climb. She instantly knows she won’t win. 

But she’s no quitter. Pidge doesn’t have to win, but she’s definitely not getting the slowest time. The whole thing takes her just under a minute. Several of the other students take a little longer, but Lance takes the cake with his forty three second time. Pidge still can’t process how quickly he got up the silk. 

Allura presents the three winners with simple evergreen wreaths, and says some kind of blessing over them. Pidge raises an eyebrow at Lance, who gives her a quick wink. 

After the gauntlet is done, Pidge really wants another drink.

“You want some?” she asks Lance, pointing towards the punch.

“Yeah, I’ll come with.” They both pour a drink and Pidge is reminded of her conversation with her father, where she admitted to having a crush on Lance. It’s been a few weeks, but the more she thinks about it, the less she can deny it. 

“So, Matt’s giant crush on Shiro,” Lance begins. Pidge is glad for the safe topic. 

“It’s so terribly obvious, but neither of them will do anything about it,” Pidge says. “It’s been like this for years with those two.”

“Years?” Lance asks. He’s got the look of someone who can’t believe that two absolute idiots wouldn’t take years to confess their love. Pidge knows better by now.

“They’ve know each other since high school. It was painful to watch then, and it’s painful now.” Pidge has been suffering in silence for so long. It’s nice to have Lance in on Matt’s obvious secret.

“So why don’t they just say something?” Lance asks, like the answer is obvious. 

“Holt family curse,” Pidge says. She may be a woman of science, but she’s sure the curse is real. “We Holts can’t act on our feelings. My mom had to trick my dad into coming to their first date. He was convinced there was no way she could feel the same about him.”

“It sounds like you Holts are hard to catch,” Lance says. 

Pidge looks away from Lance, her cheeks heating. 

“Yeah, we are,” she admits. Then, she leans in close. “How do you feel about a little romantic meddling?” Then Pidge casually points to a decoration that she noticed the first time she saw the studio decorated. A string of mistletoe at the bottom of the stairs to the loft. Lance grins. 

“Meddling sounds fun,” Lance says. “But I think we’re going to need Allura to pull this off.”

~~

Bringing Lance in on the conspiracy was the obvious choice. He overheard Matt’s confession during apparatus week, and he’s got the sneaky streak Pidge needs. So Pidge is in charge of getting Shiro up to the loft, which is easy enough when she asks him to help her grab something from up there that Allura ‘asked her to get.’ Pidge settles on a pile of pillows, and holds most of them herself, letting Shiro carrying the remaining two.

Lance is about to make some excuse for Matt to head up the stairs to the loft. Pidge hangs back for a moment, joking about how Shiro will cushion her fall if she trips, and watches from around the pillows. At the bottom of the stairs, mistletoe is hanging over the first stair. It’s a little cliche, but it’s all they have.

Just as Shiro is about to reach the bottom of the stairs, Matt comes from around the corner, running. He runs into Shiro, and Shiro — God bless his soul — drops the pillows to prevent Matt from falling backwards. In doing so, he has one arm around Matt’s shoulder, and the other on his waist. Pidge grins. 

Above them, the mistletoe moves, the bells in the garland jingling softly. Allura, the clever woman, rigged a fishing line to the mistletoe before the party. Pidge loves it. Lance must have given the signal, and Allura, ever the co-conspirator, has obliged. 

Shiro and Matt look up at the sound. Then they look down, at each other. Pidge is dying of impatience, but apparently so is Shiro, because he sighs and leans forward. The hand on Matt’s shoulder moves up to his face, and before Shiro leans any farther, he whispers something to Matt. 

Pidge can’t hear, but she can guess, because Matt nods dumbly, and then her brother is kissing his crush. Or, being kissed by his crush. Because Shiro looks like he knows what he’s doing, and Matt looks like he’s ready to scream. But the moment passes, and they’re kissing in earnest. 

Pidge is relieved, for more than a few moments, and then, the little sibling in her wakes up. She hurls one of the pillows at the pair. 

“Gross, you two!” she yells, throwing another pillow. “Get a room!” Matt and Shiro part, and they both look mad. 

“We will!” Matt shouts back. And then he’s dragging Shiro up the stairs, past Pidge, and up to the loft. Pidge can hardly believe it. But runs down the stairs, and looks for Lance. He’s over to the side, his phone discreetly pointed to the foot of the stairs. 

“I can’t believe it worked!” Pidge exclaims. Then Lance shakes his phone. 

“Got the whole thing on video,” he says. Pidge is vibrating in excitement.

“We can hear you from up here!” Matt yells down from the loft. Pidge rolls her eyes, but turns to Lance.

“We did it,” she says. “We broke the Holt curse.” Lance looks terribly pleased.

“I knew we could,” he replies. Then he leans over to show her the video. It starts a little shaky as Matt runs past Lance with a worried look on his face, but comes into focus and zooms in on the pair right as they notice the bells ringing in the mistletoe. Pidge can’t believe she has video footage of her brother’s first kiss with Shiro, and a part of her vows to keep this for when the idiots finally get married. Lance also kept recording through her butting in, including the pillows bouncing off Matt’s head. 

Lance is a pretty good partner in crime. And maybe, with the trapeze class in her future, and the spring showcase coming up, the second half of Pidge’s last year of grad school will be just as exciting as the first. 

Especially if Lance is a part of it.


End file.
